


At Your Door and Towards the Light

by fxreproof



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Anxiety Disorder, Bucky Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Rehabilitation, Sad, Self Harm, Sleepy Cuddles, Spoilers, Steve Needs a Hug, Stucky - Freeform, Therapy, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxreproof/pseuds/fxreproof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a large space in between them, but Bucky could deal with being so much closer. He had forgotten what actual human interaction was supposed to feel like. His brain wanted him to slip his knife out and stab the man in the gut, but he couldn’t bring himself to comply. Kill, kill, kill circled in his mind, taunting and torturing him.</p><p>He didn’t cry for himself. He cried for everything he harmed, everything he destroyed.<br/>He cried for Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. white blank page

People hunched over on the sidewalk, pulled up their collars and hoods. Umbrellas snapped open. The first drops of a winter storm splattered onto the concrete. A soldier slipped underneath a shop front. He braced against the cold, sharp wind blew across his nose and lips. It felt like ice, it seeped into his pours and forced out any warmth that he had managed to gain. Cars pattered through the street. Horns honked and people yelled. His eyebrows knotted into a glare. He hated cold. He hated people. A man in a pressed black suit and leather shoes handed him two dollars. The soldier tossed it into a puddle and yelled about not needing anyone’s money. He didn’t want help… but, then again, he actually really did need that money. It was slightly insulting when people treated him like a homeless person. He picked it up and shoved the wet wad of paper into his pocket after the man was out of sight.

He stepped out from under the shelter for a moment, hailing a cab that was pulled up down the street. It stopped in front of him and he slipped in. He mumbled an address and tossed enough cash to cover the fee onto the drivers lap, using the money he just earned. He had calculated the drive many times before. He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. His breath warmed up his skin briefly. The driver took the hint and blasted the heat.

The soldier stepped out of the cab, slipping against another wall for cover. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands, hiding what he hated most. Metal fingers poked out of the left side as he crossed his arms. Another cab pulled over across the street. A blond man carrying a backpack stepped out. His shoulders were broad and muscular. They didn’t fit with his body, but it made an attractive image. He stared at him as he entered an apartment building and disappeared. The soldier slid down a wall and rested his chin on his knees. He watched a light flicker on inside one of the apartments. A lone shadow moved about and stopped somewhere behind a wall. He had the same routine every day. He stared at a spot in front of his feet. He could see one of his toes through a hole in his boot. 

His eyes wandered back to the windows on the apartment building. A white curtain is pulled open and an outline of a man stopped and stared out at the street. It bolted away and vanished. He furrowed his brows, bored and freezing. His shoulders shook with a slight shiver. Another wind brushed over his face. He hid his face in his knees, grumbling at the sudden stab of cold. He tapped his foot on the concrete quickly, a nervous habit he had had for almost two years (even though he could not remember the moment it started, or if it had ever stopped). His head snapped up at the shrieking of tires and the honking of a car. The blond was standing in the middle of the street. He apologized to the driver of the car and stumbled across the pavement. He watched the man like a hawk, hand grasping the knife in his jacket. No one ever talked to him, looked at him like that. No one had ever thought of him until that very moment.           

            “B-Bucky?” the blond man stuttered. The soldier wasn’t sure who Bucky was, but he knew exactly who this was. He just didn’t know why it was so hard to remember the details. He could feel something rising inside of him, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. His fingers left the knife as his muscles relaxed. The blond just stared at him. Bucky, or whoever he was, took a moment to look over his appearance. He was slightly embarrassed by the sudden attention. The few glances he had gotten on the streets were enough. His left hand was gloved with leather, hiding his metal arm. His jeans were filthy and ripped at the ends. Bucky’s face was caked with dirt and his chin was stubbly. His hair was ragged and long, he had attempted to cut it himself. He didn’t talk, just stared back; their blue eyes were nearly identical. The blond double took his actions and focused on a car parked next to them for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I… where have you been?” Bucky sighed heavily, shoulders fluidly following the intake of air. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was sad to look at, like a stray dog with matted fur and dirty paws you would see on the streets.

            “Everywhere, _nowhere_. I don’t know,” he replied. Bucky’s voice was raspy and unused. The man hesitantly sat beside him. There was a large space in between them, but Bucky could deal with being so much closer. He had forgotten what actual human interaction was supposed to feel like. His brain wanted him to slip his knife out and stab the man in the gut, but he couldn’t bring himself to comply.  _Kill, kill, kill_ circled in his mind, the assassin’s only instinct. 

 

But was he really meant to kill this man?

            “Buck, do you know who…” 

            “I don’t know who _you_ are! Steve Rogers, Captain America, fucking Mr. Save the Day? I don’t know who you are anymore! I saw the stupid exhibit. They’re making me look like some tragic fallen hero! How am I supposed to live with that?” Bucky cried with a defensive tone. He hunched over and glared at the street. “I don’t know who _I_ am anymore either. I’m not a hero. I kill. I murder… and I just know that I’m… supposed to be here.” Bucky hid his face and the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. 

            “I know who you are,” Steve insisted. His voice was sincere and soft as if he was stepping careful over his words. Bucky could feel Steve’s worrying without even looking at him. He could feel that knot in his stomach tighten at the look he had on his face. Everything was his fault. It was  _his_ fault. “I know that  _you_ are James Buchanan Barnes and the best soldier I’ve ever known and I know that that confuses you, but damnit, Bucky you’re my best friend!” Steve raised his voice, immediately regretting it when people stared. Bucky had a feeling this man wasn’t used to swearing.

            “I don’t believe you, I don’t!” Bucky crossed his arms, slouching in the cold. His eyes were turning red from the salt in his tears. He wanted to get up and run away, but he also wanted to bury his head in Steve’s chest and scream away all of his worries. 

Steve dragged his hands over his face, a habit he has become accustomed to in stressful situations. It seemed all soldiers developed habits after a war. He took a shaky breath. Bucky shuffled his feet. He tapped one in a puddle. The water splashed and soaked into his jeans, which now uncomfortably stuck to his legs.

            “Buck, I saw you die. I saw you fall and I couldn’t save you. I wanted to jump down and follow you, but I couldn’t. I know the things you went through were terrible and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just give me a chance, will you?” Bucky glares at a puddle in the street. The crack in Steve’s voice dug into his head, forcing out the kill instinct we was trying to ignore. “You wouldn’t be here if something inside of you didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t remember me.” The soldier looks at Steve. His blue eyes had something dark in them, under the lonely, abandoned look. “I swear on my life that I’m here with you. ‘Til the end of the line, remember?” Bucky remembered. He remembered beating Captain America’s face in with his metal hand. He remembered how it felt to have his fingers wrapped around his neck. “Buck I’m sorry.” He wasn’t the one who had to be sorry. Bucky was sick of him saying that over and over again. It was like listening to a broken record. But despite how annoyed he had gotten, he stood up. 

            “Then get me some fucking food, will ya? And get me out of this rain,” he said with a somewhat lightened look on his face. Before Steve knew it, Bucky was crossing the street, ignoring any oncoming traffic. He felt like getting hit by a car would relieve the pain, so he took the risk. Bucky mumbled something about being cold and wet, his heart pounding and blood pumping loudly. Steve opened the door to his apartment for Bucky and closed it behind them. It was warm inside. Bucky’s hands we’re stuffed in his pockets. He observed the room with a blank stare. He was routing the entire area, escapes roots and weapons included. Steve just stood and watched him for a moment. Bucky’s whole persona was different, the way held himself, walked, how defensive he got at every word spoken to him.

            “Do you want to take a shower or anything? I can start the water, it takes a minute to…” 

            “No thanks.”

            “But Buck… I apologize, but you’re filthy.” Steve stepped closer to Bucky, only receiving a small glare from the other man. Bucky cocked his head, listening to the swing music playing from a record player on a shelf. 

            “Is that Harry James?” Steve stared at him, mouth hanging open. 

            “What? Buck, you remember? You know who this is?” Steve was about to grip his shoulders, smile, and hug him. But he didn’t. Instead his hands hung limply at his side.

            “No. I just saw the cover to the record there,” he replied, nodding to the shelf. Steve dropped his hands again and frowned. At least Bucky still had a sense of humor, but his face was emotionless and hard. Bucky kicked off his boots. He was missing a sock. Steve sighed heavily as he observed the older man. Bucky watched Steve’s eyes stray downwards. They stop on a spot around his abdomen. He followed Steve’s gaze on his shirt with a confused look, finding a splotch of dried blood. “That’s new,” he mumbled.

            “Bucky, are you hurt?” He shook his head in reply. Nothing ever hurt anymore. “Let me see.” Bucky crossed his arms around himself. “You know, it could be infected.” Steve turned and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. Bucky sharply drew in breath. He didn’t want to be touched, let alone take his shirt off. Steve returned with a wet washcloth, antiseptic, and some bandages. “I really need to see that, okay?” Bucky stared him down. He slowly uncrossed his arms and reached for the edge of his shirt. He felt cold air snap at his exposed stomach, but the heat was on and filling the apartment. Steve watched a little too closely as Bucky shed some of his clothing.

Bucky stretched his arms above his head with a slight groan. There were knots all over his back. He felt unused, in need of repair. Steve worried about his left arm. The skin where flesh met metal was ragged and pink. It seemed like Bucky used to have it regularly worked on and the actual flesh was taking a toll from the lack of maintenance. He drew his eyes away from it, not wanting to embarrass him. Bucky sat on the couch and kept his arms out of the way from the injury. It was a deep and angry, red gash that stretched over two ribs and to the center of his stomach. Steve furrowed his brows when he looked at it. Bucky could imagine what he was feeling: the feeling of not being able to help, being completely useless. 

He sat next to Bucky, turned sideways so he could reach the whole wound. He began to gently rub the washcloth over the gash. Bucky flinched at the stinging sensation and slid away. He glared at Steve and chewed on the inside of his mouth to distract from the pain in his gut. “Just let me put some bandages on it.” Bucky timidly allowed Steve to get close, squeezing his eyes shut when Steve placed the first bandage on the bloody wound. He eventually watched Steve’s hands perfectly and gently bandage him up; curious about how he was able to take all of the pain away so easily.

            “You’re good at that,” he mumbled. His lids were drawn over his eyes halfway. Steve glanced into his eyes, taking Bucky’s hands and cleaning them off.

            “You can’t eat when you’re all dirty like this. Can’t you just shower? Or bathe? I don’t care.” Bucky could tell he was a bit of a clean freak. He took his hands out of Steve’s grip, drying them off on his jeans. He wasn’t sure why Steve stared cleaning them in the first place.

            “I don’t want to,” he said sharply. How many times did he have to say it? 

            “Why not?” Bucky sighed, helpless. He leaned on his elbow and closed his eyes. He had tucked some of his hair behind his ear, giving an easier view of his face.

            “It’s a long story.”

            “I’ll listen.” Bucky cleared his throat. It was hard for him to talk about the past that he remembered. No one ever understood what he had gone through. His voice was soft and quiet at first, but it began to choke after some memories flooded it again. 

            “Okay…” he paused a bit, maybe sorting out words. “When Hydra took me and after they erased all my memories, they’d punish me for asking questions. I asked who you were once and I remember waking up with a clean slate…” He almost missed getting wiped sometimes, having all of his emotions recalibrated and turned off. Bucky stopped, his eyes opened and he stared out the window across the room. The soft, yellow glow of a streetlight shone in through the curtains. He wasn’t sure how mechanic he sounded. Wasn’t sure if his words sounded like a script he had read over and over again. “I was supposed to obey. To stay silent and listen and kill. I was supposed to be a muzzled dog. But whenever I wasn’t… whenever I remembered a slight image of the past, they would use water to- to torture me. Whether it’d be water boarding or electric shocks, that’s all I ever got. The only stimulation.” Steve folded his hands. “Other than sensory deprivation.” Those words sunk into the room. He was so blunt, so straight forward. Bucky took a deep breath, feeling a torturous weight be lifted off of his chest and the first breath to his lungs in ages. “I don’t like the feel anymore. How it gets cold if you stay in it too long. How it got cold when I wouldn’t listen.”

The torture wasn’t the worst part. It never seemed to bring that pain he was meant to feel. Only the after effects brought pain as he soaked in punishment and muddy water, trying to regain control of his screams.

            “Okay, that’s fine,” Steve assured him. Bucky wanted Steve to leave him alone about the matter. He pulled his knees up and buried his face in the fabric of his jeans.  _He_ had been the one living on the streets, not Steve. 

            “Can I have something to eat?” Bucky asked, voice muffled and croaky. “And maybe some clean clothes?” Steve smiled softly. He got up from the couch and wandered down the hall. Bucky sat silently in the living room, listening to the music and trying to remember everything all at once. It wasn’t working through. Nothing came up beside the snow and the ice. He picked up a black notebook on the coffee table and opened it. It was filled with drawings of him, that’s at least what he thought, but they all said _Bucky_. That wasn’t him anymore. He was nameless like a dog without a collar.

Some were old, dated back to the 40’s. This Bucky guy was all dressed up in a military uniform with a cap and everything. He looked happy, alive. Bucky wondered how he could have ever looked like that, how he could have been such a different man. He flips through the pages finding several other people. All people he didn’t know. He stared at an older one of what he assumed to be his past self again until Steve came out of the hall holding clothes. Bucky slams the notebook shut. “Sorry, I was just curious.” He wasn’t really sorry. His whole life had been surrounded by ignoring privacy anyway. 

            “Oh, no it’s fine,” Steve blurted, turning red at the cheeks. He crossed the room and sat in the same spot, but closer. Bucky watched Steve’s face light up. He didn’t know whether it was about him or about the other people he had drawn. “This is one of my older sketchbooks. I found it again awhile ago.” Steve took it from Bucky, opening it up again. Their fingers had brushed and Bucky had froze, but Steve didn’t notice. The contact felt weird. It sent shooting sensations up his arm. “You know, this might help you remember something about yourself.” He names off the people in the book and asked Bucky if he knew them. The answer was “no” to all of them. He was only focused on the passion in Steve’s voice. One of the last pages was some pretty girl with bright red lips. Steve smiled.   

            “You seem like you were in love with her… or still are in love,” Bucky suggested, only prodding into Steve’s life further. He didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like, but he wanted to know.

He could see it in Steve’s eyes. It was obvious and painful to look at. Steve met Bucky’s gaze. He looked at him like Bucky had just reappeared out of nowhere. It was confusing and strange. Bucky had never seen that look in someone’s eyes before when they saw him. He only ever saw superiority, hatred. No one was ever _happy_ to see him. 

            “Her name is Peggy. I was, I suppose in love with her, but I can’t be anymore. She barely remembers anything now.” Steve dragged his hand across his chin. “We were in the war together, with you, Buck.” Bucky’s eyes sparked with a little bit of life, but he glared when he didn’t remember a single image from the past.

            “All I remember is you. I remember you being _small_ and then like… this.” He gestured towards Steve’s body. The blush on Steve’s cheeks grew brighter, more obvious. “And then I remember when…” He stopped, words being swallowed up by sudden fear. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” His face turns dark and cold again; all of the life had been drained out of him. He picked up the clothes Steve brought and briskly stood.

            “Down the hall, second door to the right.” Bucky left Steve alone on the couch. He followed the directions and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Bucky slid down the wall. He put his face in his hands and attempted to hold back a sudden flow of anger and sadness and fear all at once. He was terrified of the one memory he had. The train, the snow, and the regret he had seen in Steve’s, or somebody’s eyes when the grip he had on the train gave out. He remembered that Steve looked like he thought it was his fault. He remembered hitting the ground and tumbling into the snow. He remembered screaming and a red glove reaching for his own.

He remembered white. And then black.

He choked on tears silently, rocking against the wall. His fingers were fisted in his hair. He wanted it all to the end. He wanted to die, but he couldn’t abandon Steve again. Something told him to stay.

Bucky reappeared from the bathroom. He leaned against a wall of the kitchen and examined the room. Steve had given him sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. They hugged his body close around his muscles, outlining his figure and making him warm. His face was slightly blotchy around his cheeks and eyes. It was obvious he had cried moments before, but he tried to act normal.

            “I ordered food,” Steve said.

            “Pizza?” Bucky asked, having heard the conversation form the bathroom. Steve nodded and tossed a bottle of water at him. He caught it, reflexes lighting fast.

            “I didn’t know what you liked.” Bucky didn’t know what he liked either. “I hope it’s okay.”

            “You worry too much.” Bucky moved across the room, examining Steve’s possessions. He ran his fingers along books and vinyl records. A lot of them were worn and old, the kind you would find in a rundown thrift shop. It was cute that Steve held onto everything he remembered. Bucky was jealous that he was able to. He found another sketchbook and opened it. Steve turned his head and occupied himself with a scrap piece of paper. “You drew this guy ‘Bucky’ a lot.” Bucky looked up at him. “How’d you never forget what I looked like?” He didn’t know how long it had been, but he knew anyone else wouldn’t be able to remember something for that long. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

            “Didn’t really have anything else to draw,” Steve murmured, embarrassed and flustered. 

            “They’re nice. Museum worthy.” Steve glanced up through slightly draped eyelids. He was tired after a long day of sitting in the new S.H.I.E.L.D facility. “Wait, there  _is_  one of your sketchbooks in the museum.” It made him feel like that tragic fallen hero again, and he hated it. Bucky’s face had dropped. He was constantly going from a small bit of light to the Winter Soldier in a matter of seconds. 

            “Buck, are you okay?” Metal fingers pushed the journal back onto the shelf gently. He wasn’t okay. He was never going to be okay again, whatever that meant. “I mean, have you… been better?” Bucky raked his fingers through his hair. Everything was being jumbled up again. It was all so confusing and messy. He preferred not to think about it at all. He opened the bottle of water, plastic cracking under his grip and water bubbling as he gulped it down. Water clung to his lips as he capped the bottle. His tongue flicked over them quickly.

            He didn’t speak anymore.

The doorbell rang and Steve answered it, bringing in a warm box of pizza. He set it on the kitchen table gently along with two paper plates. Bucky slid into a seat across from Steve, serving himself two slices. Steve watched him eat for a moment. Bucky looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, immediately biting into the warm slice. Steve told him to slow down and that he didn’t have to worry about food. He ignored him, eating quickly and only stopping for water. Food was food and he had to take the opportunity to eat it. Bucky had never had pizza before, or had he? He couldn’t recall anymore.  

Bucky stood up, still without words. He mumbled something about sleep, so Steve showed him to the guest room. Bucky wanted to sleep without worrying that his own throat was going to be slit. He wanted to sleep without worrying that he’d kill anyone within a 50-foot proximity.

            “It’s not much, but there are blankets in that drawer.” Bucky’s eyes strayed to the window across the room. “It’s locked, don’t worry.” Bucky stepped into the small, cozy room and nodded, somewhat content with the situation. He wanted to pull Steve in there and hug him and never let go, but he didn’t. He didn’t even look at him. 

            “Aren’t you worried I might complete my mission?” Bucky inquired. He had reported a failed mission status to whatever was left of his handlers. No one ever replied though. The lines were all static. He didn’t know if he was supposed to forget or try again.           

            “No because you wouldn’t be here if you were going to kill me. You’d be outside, just watching and waiting like before.” Bucky nodded and turned to look at Steve. He wanted to see if he was scared of him. All he saw was honesty, _respect._ That was new. He had never seen that pure look in someone’s eyes before. “Good night, Buck,” Steve whispered. Their eyes met in the dark hallway for what seemed like an eternity. The sadness and guilt Bucky saw in Steve’s blue eyes hurt like hell and stabbed a hole in his chest.

            “Night, Steve.” Bucky closed the door before he could say anything else. He knew it surprised the blond that he called him that. He turned around in the dark room, finding comfort in the undisturbed darkness. He slipped a knife out of his jacket and tucked it under a pillow. It was the biggest bed Bucky had seen in a long time. He fell into it and sunk into the mattress slightly. He grumbled, too soft. Bucky was used to the floor, but beds meant being warm. He grabbed all three blankets from the drawer and curled up underneath them on the bed. They were all thick and made for winter, but he still managed to feel a bite of cold, especially in the area where metal met the ragged flesh of his shoulder. His feet were icy against the soft sheets and blankets.

**

Bucky shot out of bed, knife in hand. His face was streaked with tears and he was covered in sweat. His heart pounded underneath his ribs like a drum and his lungs struggled to keep up with how hard he was breathing. He was glad that he hadn’t woken up screaming like past nights. Steve would have probably busted through the wall. Bucky wiped his face on his shirt, sighing into the fabric. It was terrifying and torturous. He couldn’t get _those_ images out of his head. They swirled around and around, threatening to take over. He could feel a coldness seeping in through his clothes. Twelve o’clock flashed on the electric clock that sat on the nightstand as dim moonlight filtered in through the curtains. He quickly moved across the room and pulled on his boots and jacket. He stuck his knife in one of his boots and slipped a gun into the waistband of his pants. He opened the window, hopping out onto the fire escape. Bucky, or whoever he was, disappeared into the darkness without a single sound.


	2. plastic cups, snow-white powder

Steve’s eyes fluttered open. He glanced at the alarm clock through blond eyelashes. It was seven o’clock and the sun was shining on his face brightly through the curtains. He kicked off the sheets and stepped out of bed, slipping on a pair of slippers. His hands found their way to his face as he rubbed his chin and cheeks. He attempted to stretch his arms, but sleep still hung on his shoulders, weighing him down. He felt emotionally exhausted and drawn out, but he got up anyway. The window was cracked open slightly. A soft breeze flowed in, tickling his bare chest and back with a bite of cold. He padded to the bathroom. The only thoughts on his mind were how badly he had to pee and how excited he was to see Bucky.

The toilet flushed as he ran warm water in the sink, rubbing shaving cream over half of his face. He had nearly forgotten that Bucky was asleep in the next room over. The house was dead silent, only the sounds of the street filled the empty space. He almost expected Bucky to come in and shave next to him, like the old days. He imagined Bucky next to him combing his hair and neatly running gel through it. He smiled at the memories he had of them trying to share the mirror at the same time. No one came though, so he stopped thinking about it. The razor slid over his skin with ease. His fingers led it over his chin and neck, shaving the night’s stubble quickly. The blade pricked his cheek, but it healed over with only one drop of blood. He turned on the sink again and rinsed his face. The warm water felt good against his lips. It woke him up and wiped away and sleepiness. Steve put everything away, tucked nicely in the medicine cabinet. He walked down the hall and stopped outside of Bucky’s door. He listened for the light snore from the older man, but he heard nothing. Maybe he just didn’t snore anymore. Maybe that was another thing about Bucky that had changed. But Bucky was a morning person and used to always be awake before Steve. He knocked twice, then four times. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Hey, Buck. Are you awake?” Steve questioned. He furrowed his brows and knocked again. He knew Bucky would have woken up to the noise. He was always a light sleeper, always alert. Bucky wasn’t in there and he knew it. But still, Steve was cautious about entering the room. He wasn’t sure how Bucky would react to be intruded on.

Despite how long he hesitated, Steve opened the door in a worried frenzy. He was greeted with the unmade bed and an open window. The curtains blew against the wind lightly. There was no Bucky. He rushed to the window and looked out onto the street. The fire escape ladder was hanging down, recently used. A strong, freezing wind slapped him in the face. He slammed the window shut, rattling the frames on the wall. Steve felt like cussing, screaming, yelling. But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead he examined the room carefully. There was no sign of struggle or intruder. Bucky’s boots were gone and so was his jacket. Three thick winter blankets were on the bed, tangled together.

Steve knew Bucky would leave. He knew that there was no point in trying. From the very moment he saw Bucky on the street, he knew everything he did would never, ever bring the old James back.

But he still went out to find the soldier anyway.

Steve ran out onto the street. His face was the pure image of someone who had lost his or her child in the grocery store. He stumbled down the sidewalk, bumping into stranger after stranger. Everything had frozen. Steve couldn’t function. No matter how much he tried to tell himself there was no point, he still kept walking. Except he felt like he wasn’t moving, and the whole world was spinning around him.

He passed a snoring homeless man sleeping on a metal bench. A few feet away, he stopped in his tracks. Brightness worked its way onto Steve’s face, but it was quickly replaced with annoyance. He never got overly upset, but now he was. He had worried for Bucky, for his life. “You have to be kidding me,” he muttered. He stormed back to the bench, stopping directly in front of it. “Bucky. Wake up.” Steve was towering over him. The man didn’t move. “I know you’re awake, now _get up_.” Steve’s voice was short. He felt like walking home and leaving Bucky behind, but he also felt like sitting down and just talking, listening to everything the man had to say. Bucky’s eyes opened. He smirked as he attempted to stand.

“Stevie, you don’t have to be so rude,” he slurred. A crumpled red plastic cup and a small plastic bag fell out of his jacket pocket. “I didn’t go far, I swear.” Steve glared at him. “Just to this random party.” He noticed a hint of white powder under Bucky’s nose and stuck to his lips. Steve lowered his voice, stepping closer to him.

“Bucky, are you high?” Bucky just chuckled. He wiped his nose and stood, patting Steve’s chest lightly. His pupils were huge and his eyes were bloodshot. The blue of his iris almost looked like it had disappeared.

“No! What would make you think that?” His words were combined together. He smelled of alcohol and sweat. It was the type of smell that hung on someone after a hangover, but it didn’t smell bad on Bucky. It almost smelt sweet. It was intoxicating. Steve grabbed him by the bicep and walked him back to the apartment. For a moment, he didn’t want to let go off Bucky’s arm. He wanted to keep feeling how the muscles tugged under his skin. The soldier pulled his arm away, cheeks flushed. Leave it to Bucky to get drunk _and_ high in the middle of the night with no money to even spend on drugs. “If I was high I would’ve…” Bucky stepped to the side, hunched over and violently throwing up into a nearby trashcan. It was all alcohol and he didn’t smell sweet anymore. “thrown up.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before puking again. Steve had an instinct to pull his hair out of his face, but he didn’t. He was used to doing it for girls when they threw up because he was never drunk, never could get drunk. Natasha had taken advantage of his ability to stay sober one too many times. “Now that I think about it. I am completely stoned. But it’s kinda a funny story.” Steve raised his eyebrows at him. “It was off this girl’s stomach and… I think a guy’s abs too.” Bucky laughed like he was reliving the experience again in his mind. Steve desperately wanted to change the subject. His cheeks were covered with a red blush. The thought of Bucky being so sexual was turning him on and he had to think of something else.

“Come on, you need to eat something,” Steve suggested, although it was more of a command. Steve ordered Bucky to wait on the curb as he ran into a coffee shop a few feet away. He returned with two coffees and sandwiches.

“I don’t need any food. I’m just gonna puke it up again,” he refused. His words were coming together more clearly, but the drugs still hadn’t ran their full course of effects.

“It’ll help. You need something to absorb all of the alcohol. Just eat.” Bucky snatched the bag of food from Steve and took out a sandwich. He bit into the warm bread with a content expression in his eyes. His lips curved into a slight smile as he ate. Steve would worry about his escapades later that day. Now, they needed to get home and Bucky needed to shower even more.

“Since when do you know how to get over hangovers?”

Steve nearly pushed Bucky back into the house. The man could barely walk, let alone stand. He plopped down on the couch and chugged his coffee when they got inside. Steve leaned against a wall. He was beginning to worry again.

“Buck, where did you go?” Bucky just stared at him as he drank his coffee. His eyes never left Steve’s. A thick tension settled between them. Something brewed in his eyes underneath his dilated pupils.

“Damn, I would fuck you,” he slurred. Steve blushed, nearly dropping his coffee. Bucky exploded with laughter, except it wasn’t the same. It was amazing to see him smile. Even if it was different, Steve couldn’t get enough of the sound. He memorized every inch of Bucky, not wanting to forget how he looked when he really did laugh. “No, but seriously.” Steve looked away. He told himself it was only the drugs and nothing else.

“Buck, just tell me where you went.” Steve forgot everything he said. He didn’t want to get caught up in something that wasn’t even real.

“Woke up, couldn’t sleep. Went somewhere to take the edge off from this.” Bucky pointed to his head and finished off his sandwich.

“You could have talked to me instead, woken me up too,” Steve insisted. His eyes were sincere. He wanted Bucky to know that he actually cared for him. If he could rewrite everything, they wouldn’t even be in this century anymore and Bucky and him would finally have their peace. He didn’t want Bucky to experience this struggle anymore. It was tearing him apart.

“I didn’t want to wake you with this bullshit I go through.” That was like a stab to the gut. Steve could hardly imagine what Bucky was feeling.

“What, do you think I wouldn’t care?” Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course Steve cared. He probably cared more than anyone. He wanted Bucky to talk to him more than anything in the world. He wanted his trust. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“People never listen! All I ever got when I woke up like this was another memory wipe!” Bucky yelled. His eyes were vivid and terrified. Tears brimmed his eyelashes and threatened to fall, but he blinked them away. “You wouldn’t get it, Steve. No one ever did!” Bucky pulled his knees up onto the couch. His shoulders shook with silent sobs. He muttered fluent Russian and fisted his hands. “I can’t do this, I fucking can’t!” he cried. Steve crossed the room and sat next to him. Bucky was slightly smaller. He looked like a child curled up like this. Steve was hesitant to touch him. He could barely stand to look at him in this state. “You didn’t even look for me did you? You didn’t even care!” That’s when Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s. They were flooded with tears, and Steve couldn’t look away from how blue they were. “I try so fucking hard, but I can’t! I can’t fucking get better!”

Steve took the chance. He forgot everything that was holding him back. Not a thought crossed his mind as his arms wrapped around Bucky’s quivering body. He held him tightly, enclosing the man in a warm embrace. Nothing could make him let go.

“Listen to me Buck,” he said gently, heart hammering against his ribs. “You can do this. You can forget. You can remember. You can do anything you want, and I don’t care what it is. The James I knew was the bravest man I had ever met and so are you.” Bucky’s breathing had calmed, but he continued to cry into Steve’s shirt. “I’m here for you. Always. I’m never going to leave your side again.” Steve arms tightened. “I swear on our lives.” His fingers had worked their way into Bucky’s hair. He held him close. He could feel the soldier’s heart beating against his own.

“I hate myself. I hate who I am. I’m a murderer and that’s it!” Bucky gripped Steve’s shirt. “I hate everything I represent. I can’t even look at my fucking arm without feeling regret, without hearing those goddamned screams. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” Bucky’s chest heaves. He couldn’t catch his breath. Sobs were taking him over. Steve could only bring him closer. By then, Bucky was practically on top of him.

“That wasn’t you, Buck. That wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. It’s all mine, Buck. You can’t blame yourself for killing anyone because you would have never died if it wasn’t for me,” Steve cooed. He began rocking Bucky in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, Bucky.” Bucky had become quiet. His eyes were closed, but he was fully awake. His breathing was ragged and out of control. “Just please, don’t blame yourself. That wasn’t you, Buck. That was someone else.”

Steve just hugged him. He kept whispering calming words into Bucky’s ears. He let him cry. He let him sob.

And then Bucky’s hands wrapped around Steve’s waist. He hugged him back and didn’t let go. His grip was tight and pulled them closer. Steve’s face grew hotter as Bucky’s tears slow. Butterflies swirled in his stomach. They were so close, inseparable. Nothing could stop this now.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” the soldier whispered. His fingers gripped at Steve’s shirt tightly.

“It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” Bucky looked up at him as if he finally realized the tension of the situation. He scooted away from Steve, but stayed just as close. His head was on Steve’s shoulder. Their hands were touching and Steve wanted to hold Bucky’s in his own.

“Can I… shower now?” Steve led Bucky to the bathroom. He stopped outside of the door. “It might not work, just so you know.” Steve gave him a reassuring smile. It was soft and genuine.

“I’ll be right out here. Just yell,” Steve replied. It was all a little awkward, and Bucky closed the door to end the silence. Steve sat in the hall and listened to the shower turn on. He was worried for Bucky’s mental state. He shouldn’t have let him go in there by himself right then.

He was in there for a solid ten minutes with no problem. Steve had kept waiting in the hall though. There was no way he’d leave Bucky alone in there. Steve’s head snapped up at the sound of glass shattering and he heard Bucky’s ragged breathing shortly after. Steve opened the door, only taking a second to warn him that he was going in. Bucky was curled up on the floor of the shower. The glass door was broken and shards littered the bathroom floor. There was blood flowing down the shower drain. Bucky’s knuckles were all bleeding and split open. He had punched the glass door with his right arm. Steve was petrified by how easily Bucky broke the entire door with his real arm. “Bucky, Jesus, what happened?” Steve worried. Bucky was all naked and silent, but Steve wasn’t distracted by him and how exposed he was on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to. I lost control, I’m sorry,” Bucky muttered. He wasn’t crying, but he was hyperventilating. Steve tiptoed over the glass shards and stepped into the shower. His clothes immediately became soaked with lukewarm water as he sat behind Bucky. His legs were on either side of the broken soldier. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s muscular frame. The water was cold, but he felt so much warmer. Bucky’s fingers grabbed at Steve’s arms. He curled against Steve’s body, looking for comfort. “I just wanted to see if I could still feel.” The blood from his knuckles was staining Steve’s clothes. Bucky’s skin was smooth against his hands. He wanted to hold him forever, never let go. Steve’s fingers softly rubbed circles over Bucky’s skin. It was an attempt to calm him, something he remembered his mother doing for him when he was little. He didn’t care that Bucky was naked. He didn’t care that he was staining his shirt with blood. He didn’t care that he had destroyed his shower. All he cared about was how close they were and how fast his heart was beating.

Steve reached over and turned off the water. He didn’t know how long they had been in that position. He pulled a towel off of the rack and began to wrap Bucky up. Bucky was shivering. His hair stuck to his forehead and covered his eyes. He looked like a child, cold and miserable. Steve’s fingers pushed his hair behind his ears, out of the way. He helped Bucky up and off of the floor. They stepped over the glass without any words. Nothing else had to be said.

**

“Let me see your hand,” Steve murmured. Bucky was dressed in warm pajama pants and a sweater of Steve’s. His feet were covered with striped socks. He gave his right hand to Steve without any hesitation. “Buck, you broke a few bones.” Steve gently examined his knuckles. They were cracked and swollen. Blood was still dripping from the cuts and onto a spare towel. Steve wanted to kiss his wounds. He wanted to give Bucky his ability to heal. Bucky flinched as Steve tightly bound his hand. “You can’t use it for a while, okay?”

“But I don’t like using my left arm,” Bucky argued.

“I know, but you have to let this heal.” Steve cut the final bandage and tied it all together. He gave Bucky an ice pack to keep over his fingers. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course it fucking hurts, Steve.” Steve nodded. He didn’t mean to anger him again.

“Do you need anything?” He really did want to help, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to curl up with him again and just sit in silence.

“No, I’m fine.”

**

Steve left Bucky on the couch, isolated in the living room. He had asked Steve for some time to think, told him to leave him alone. The bed was soft and warm. His pencil smoothly scratched perfect lines across thin paper. They curve into soft lips and dark eyes. He drew long hair and thick eyebrows. His breath hitched in his chest as a sudden flow of emotion punched him in the stomach. He continued the drawing, regretting not grabbing his colored pencils from the coffee table. He wanted to fill in the pink of the lips and blue of the eyes.

He hadn’t drawn Bucky like this before. He hadn’t drawn Bucky when he wasn’t exactly Bucky. The picture was so much different. It looked sad. Steve glanced at his cell phone. He picked it up and tapped a name on the screen. The phone rung into his ear, a female voice answered. There was a smile in her voice.

“Hey, Rogers,” she said.

“Natasha, I have a favor I need to ask of you,” Steve replied quietly. He didn’t want Bucky to hear. “It needs to be kept kind of secret.”

“Well, you asked the right person. What do you need?” Steve sighed. He began to explain the story to Natasha. The war, his best friend, how he died and came back to life in the 21st century. He tried to make Bucky sound as good as possible, make him sound like a tortured human experiment that did nothing wrong.

“He showed up at my house last night. Buck has a serious problem. Drugs, alcohol, his mental state. He broke my shower door this morning with his fist, not the metal one. Nat, I need your help. I don’t know what to do for him.” Steve had a feeling Natasha knew most of this story already. 

“Jesus, Steve. Well, if you want him to get into therapy, I can set something up at the Tower. S.H.I.E.L.D’s got all kinds of doctors running around here.” He could hear her typing something into a computer. “There’s no way Stark won’t find out though.”

“Just make sure no one else knows. I can’t have him get arrested right now.” Steve hung up first. He ran his hands over his face and stared at the drawing of Bucky. He had no clue how he’d get Bucky out of the house and into Stark Tower. He knew if the agency found out Bucky was in the area, they would take him away and torture him for answers. He didn’t know if Bucky could stand to go through that again.

After the events of the Washington D.C. headquarters, most of the S.H.I.E.L.D agency had temporarily moved into Stark Tower. That meant Steve moved back to Brooklyn along with it all. The rest of the team tried to convince him to move into the tower, but he wanted to be closer to where his home really was. He had hated adjusting to how much the city had changed. He passed the time on days off by noting the places that were still open from back in the ‘40s. Everything he did note always reminded him of Bucky though; when they got kicked out of that one fancy restaurant and when Steve got beat in that one alley. And that alley. And that alley too. But he wasn’t getting beat up anymore and Bucky hadn’t been there to save him if he did, not that he needed it.

Steve opened the door to his bedroom and looked out into the living room. Bucky was curled up on the couch, asleep. It was, in a sense, cute to see. His hands were fisted up under his face. His mouth was slightly open, lips pink. He looked peaceful. He looked calm. Steve grabbed a blanket from a chair and draped it over Bucky’s form. He made sure to cover his feet. His fingers lingered on Bucky’s shoulder. He touched his collarbone, feeling the soft skin of his neck.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. He leaped off of the couch. His metal fingers dug into the flesh of Steve’s wrist without hesitation. Death was swirling in his eyes. Steve was on the floor with a loud and painful thud before he could fight back. Bucky was ready to punch him, ready to wrap his fingers around his neck again.

“What the fuck were you doing?” he growled. He pinned Steve down, holding his hands above his head. Steve nearly felt submissive, felt like doing whatever he said. He almost liked having his hands held up above his head. “Why the fuck were you touching me?” Steve flinched when Bucky raised his other fist higher. He could barely stand to see Bucky so violent again, so ruthless.

“I’m sorry! You just looked so calm. I thought were asleep, okay?” Bucky stared at him. Steve could see him grinding his teeth, the muscles in his temple throbbing. “I wasn’t going to do anything else, I swear. I was actually just about to leave.”

“Don't you dare touch me again, do you understand?” In an instant he had turned from peaceful, quiet Bucky to the Winter Soldier. He became a fearless commander before Steve’s eyes, ready to kill anyone who looked at him wrong. Steve didn’t answer. He braced himself for a punch to the jaw, ready for the breath to be strangled out of him. His eyes were on Bucky’s under slightly hooded lids. “Do you _understand_?” Bucky yelled. His voice was short and dangerous.

“Yes, yes. I understand.” Bucky stared him in the eyes before he stepped off of him. His hips had grazed against Steve’s for a brief moment. Steve could feel everything through Bucky’s thin pants. He walked away and shut himself in the guest bedroom. The door didn’t slam like he had expected it to.

Steve was confused. He had been so close to Bucky in the past 30 hours. He had held him while he was naked, and Bucky didn’t have a single problem with that. Bucky didn’t resist Steve once before, didn’t mind being touched and held. He laid on the floor for a while, trying to get over the position they were in. He wasn’t sure why it made his heart bounce against his ribs and blood rush to his groin. His whole body had tensed when Bucky straddled him. He almost had an urge to grind upwards and into Bucky’s hips. He hated the feeling. He hated not being able to act on everything that was flooding into his brain.

Steve grabbed a jacket and slipped on his shoes. He opened the front door, only saying he was going out and nothing else.

A gust of wind blasted through his jacket right when he stepped out of the building. He hunched over against the weather and walked down the street. He knew a warm place where he could be alone without interruption. Steve entered a small bar on the corner of the street. It was an old place from back before the war. The lights were dim and comforting. It had a cozy feeling, reminding him of the old Bucky. There were only a few people inside. One girl was bent over the bar, sipping on a glass of a bloody mary as she read an eBook, and there were two guys at a booth, sitting quite close to each other. Steve watched their fingers intertwine under the table. He hated how easy it was for them to be together now and days.

Steve slipped onto a stool at the bar. He orders a glass of scotch. His fingers dipped into the small bowl of peanuts. He cracked the shells, but he didn’t eat the peanuts as the bartender poured his drink into a nice looking glass. He littered the small space in front of him with broken shells. 

“I’ll just take the bottle for now,” Steve said. She was used to him saying that, so she left it without question. He swiftly drank the glass in one swallow, enjoying the burn it gave in the back of his throat. He slightly expected a numbness to take over him after the third glass, but nothing ever did. For some reason, he always forgot that he was a supersoldier when he was in this bar. Sometimes he wondered how much he’d have to drink to cause some sort of damage. But he always remembered that his metabolism was too fast and nothing would ever work. He couldn’t get drunk, couldn’t experience the lack of emotions everyone else received. Bucky had hardly let him drink when they lived together. One: they couldn’t afford it, two: it wasn’t healthy for Steve in large amounts. Steve continued to down the bottle of scotch. His eyes were drawn to the couple in the booth. They laughed together, noses touching and hands traveling places they shouldn’t be in public.

Steve was jealous. He had to admit. Except he didn’t know why he had gotten this way. He used to never be phased by gay couples on the street. But that was before Bucky came back and it was a different time. They would be arrested if they showed any affection on the streets back in the 40's. He was jealous of how easy it was for them. He was jealous that they loved each other so much. He knew for a fact Bucky didn’t feel that way for him. Steve thought about the countless girls that entered and left their apartment. He thought about the heart-stopping look Bucky gave girls when they roamed the city at night. He could never say anything about the extreme pain he felt in his chest whenever Bucky spoke, whenever his tongue slowly flicked over those soft pink lips.

The bottle was empty and Steve didn’t want to go home. He knew he shouldn’t have left Bucky alone in the apartment, but he had to check up on him. He felt slightly bad for running away like that. The bartender asked him if he was okay to drive, but Steve said he wasn’t going to and left. He didn’t say that he couldn’t get drunk. No one would believe him anyway. He left the bar and started his way back home. The wind had stopped, but then it was just plain freezing. He reminded himself to turn up the heat when he got home.

Steve unlocked the door to his apartment. He froze in the doorway. The swing music wasn’t what bothered him. It was the fact that Bucky was standing in the middle of the living room throwing knives into the wall. His stance was perfect. Each knife went straight into the plaster with no mistake. It was mesmerizing to watch at first. But still, Steve was pissed.

“Bucky, what the hell?” Bucky spun around. A knife was gripped in his hand.

“I was bored,” he stated with a monotone voice. He turned back around and threw the last knife, impressed with his aim.

“You can’t just throw knives into the wall when you’re bored,” Steve argued. He crossed the room and pulled each knife out of the wall. He was careful not to damage the paint any further.

“I used to, why can’t I now?” Steve stopped. His back was to Bucky. Had he remembered something from before, or had he been talking about when he was with Hydra? “I’d do it all the time in this little crappy ass apartment. Except there were only two knives to use.” He furrowed his brows and looked at Steve, his nose wrinkled slightly. “You smell like alcohol.”

“Look, Bucky. Just because I’m letting you live here doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want. Just because you remembered something from before doesn’t mean you get to try it out on _my_ wall.” Steve raked his fingers through his hair. He went into the kitchen and threw the knives in a drawer. He knew he had crossed a line.

“That was from before?” Bucky asked. His voice was soft, quiet even. “I didn’t know. It just felt right, I…”

“If you want to keep staying here you have to quit lashing out on my stuff.” Bucky took a step back as Steve’s phone rang. He answered it. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.” He dropped his phone on the counter and sighed. It was Natasha, about the therapy. “Okay, I talked to a friend and I told her you were here.” Bucky’s expression changed in a matter of seconds. His whole body tensed at the words. “Wait, hear me out! No one is going to take you away. I swear.”

“Steve, what’d you do?”

“Buck, I’m really worried about you. I’m worried that one night, you’re going to go out again and not come back. I’m worried about what’s going on in that head of yours.” Steve leaned on the counter top. “I got her to arrange a therapist appointment for next Saturday.” Steve had so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to pour out straight from his heart.

“They won’t understand anything.”

“I know you think that, but it’ll help to get your words out. It’ll help to clear your head, get things straightened up. You have to talk about it to someone. The doctors we have hear stuff like this all of the time. They’re trained for it.”

“But I can talk about it with you, can’t I?” Bucky’s eyes were crystal blue. They were becoming glassy and scared. “And what doctors, where am I going?”

“The doctors at Stark Tower.” Bucky glared at Steve from the living room. “Listen, Buck. I made sure no one would find out. I’ll ease you into the system carefully. I just need to sort everything out.” Steve walked out of the kitchen and around the counter. He wanted to be closer to Bucky. “You can still talk to me whenever you’d like, but I can’t do everything you need, Buck. Just give it a try. For me. I can even go with you,” Steve suggested. “I’m still here for you. I swear.” Bucky nodded. He looked out the window, watching the cars drive by. Steve was nervous. He fidgeted around, not quite sure where to put his hands as he mentally prepared for another breakdown.

“Okay. Just this once.”


	3. about today

Saturday had arrived all too quickly. Only three panic attacks had consumed Bucky’s head in the past week and he took that as an achievement. He felt safe in Steve’s home. He felt welcomed and wanted. But today wasn’t going so well for the soldier. Today he had woken up with little sleep and a knife in his hands. He paced in his bedroom nervously, tugging on his hair and twirling one of his throwing knives between his fingers. It was a smooth, intricate motion that nearly no one could replicate. Steve had told him no weapons were aloud with visitors of the Tower and Bucky hated that. He never left the apartment without at least a knife. He wasn’t only protecting himself anymore. He had to wonder if his arm was considered a weapon, he considered it one after all.

His bed was unmade and he was still in his pajamas. He was slightly hungry, but he didn’t want to leave his room to eat any breakfast. Bucky couldn’t keep from chewing on his lips, making them look swollen and a brighter pink than normal. They were getting chapped from the many times his tongue flicked across them. A knock at his door stopped his pacing. It was gentle and quiet.

“Yeah?” Bucky called, head tilted over his shoulder to listen for a reply.

“We have to get going, Buck. If you want to be on time,” Steve said. Bucky swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. He didn’t really care about being on time, but he didn’t want to let Steve down either. He quickly changed his clothes, wearing the same thing from the day before. His wardrobe was lacking variety, but it wasn’t really his wardrobe anyway.

“Okay, give me a minute.” Bucky slipped on his boots and stuck the knife securely in a drawer. He pulled on a thick jacket and met Steve in the hall. He didn’t smile, didn’t say good morning. But when he saw the happy look Steve had on his face, his stomach flipped and his eyes lit up. “Let’s go then.”

Both men had refused the use of the subway, but neither of them gave a specific reason. Steve hailed a cab as Bucky waited against a wall. He slipped in beside Steve, leaning closer to the other man than necessary. Steve gave the address of Stark Tower and asked for the driver to turn up the heat for Bucky. Their fingers brushed in the space between them, causing a silent drive for the entire half hour and a flush to rise on Steve’s cheeks. And of course, Bucky noticed.

The only thing Bucky said about the Tower was a remark about how ugly it was. He also questioned the reason behind there only being a single “A” at the top, but, with a laugh, Steve only said it was a long story to talk about later. They walked past the security scans, setting off the alarms when Bucky went through. Steve explained for him, describing his fake arm and never saying it was entirely metal.

They were led to the 35th floor of the tower and into a large waiting room. Bucky stood and looked out the window that created most of the area. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He was used to heights from being a sniper and assassin, but then he looked down and only saw darkness. His heart began to pound in his chest and his breathing hitched in his throat. He knew the darkness was just his eyes tricking him and that he wasn't falling, but his jaw clenched down tightly as he held in any noise he could have made. Steve grabbed his shoulder. He had a worried look in his eyes. All Bucky did was turn around and hug him. He bit back tears and let Steve lead him away from the window.

“You okay?” he asked. Bucky was still gripping the sleeve of Steve’s jacket.

“Yeah, just… it’s nothing.” He tried to forget all of the snow and wind he thought he saw, but they each stuck inside of his head.

“Here, you have to fill this out for the doctor.” Bucky was handed a clipboard with two papers on it and a pen. He thought of all of the ways he could use the pen as a weapon. In the eye, in the throat, probably straight through a lung.

Age was the first question. He wasn’t sure how old he was. He couldn’t even remember how old he used to be. “You’re 26,” Steve whispered. Bucky scribbled it down. He liked that Steve knew that. Next question, allergies. He didn’t know. Next question, pre-existing disorders and sicknesses. He left it blank again. “Here let me do it.” He gave the clipboard to Steve and watched him write down all of the answers. He looked away when Steve got to that third question. He didn’t know what Steve classified him having: depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder? There were probably a lot.

A friendly looking doctor called him in. Bucky glanced at Steve. He was scared, worried, nervous, and he didn’t want to leave Steve’s side. Steve gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before Bucky left and disappeared into the room.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes. I’m Dr. Lobel.” Bucky sat on the couch across from her.

“You can call me Bucky. Or James, whichever is fine,” he said. He only knew his first name because Steve told him again before they got there. Bucky’s eyes stayed off of her face. He wanted to leave.

“Why don’t we start with you telling me about your day? How are you feeling, James?” Dr. Lobel asked. Bucky rolled his eyes. She was too nice, too endearing. He felt like a preschooler in the councilor’s office.

“I’m tired. Couldn’t sleep last night.” She wrote down his words on her notepad. Bucky watched her write, reading it upside down. He didn’t trust what she was saying about him. “I don’t really want to be here. I’d rather talk with Steve.”

“Can you tell me why you weren’t able to sleep last night?” Bucky sighed. It bothered him that she changed the subject. He looked out the window, watching the clouds with hooded eyelids. He could fall asleep right there.

“I had a nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

“Steve.” His muscles tensed up as he recalled the dream. It was graphic and red in his mind. Bucky furrowed his brows. He remembered waking up with his knife in his hands, pointed in towards his stomach.

“What happened, James?” Her voice was gentle. She seemed to be stepping around him, careful about every single word she said. Bucky felt insane. He felt like that one patient that everyone was afraid of.

“I remember red. Lots of it. It was all over my hands, my shirt. I remember seeing…” He stopped. It was getting to be too much, but he pulled through. “Seeing Steve in a pool of it. I was holding a knife above my head, like I was ready to do more damage, he was dead.” Dr. Lobel kept writing. She was checking off boxes on a sheet he couldn’t see. “I remember crying, screaming. I remember feeling regret and guilt. And then wanting to kill myself because of what I had done… Then I woke up, stopped myself from screaming, didn’t want to wake up Steve. I had my knife in my hands. I think I was ready to stab myself, but I don’t know.” He shook his head. He really had no idea why he woke up like that. He had never threatened his own life in his sleep before, but he also never dreamt of Steve dead either.

“Do you sleep with a knife?”

“Yeah, under my pillow. I feel safer that way.” She just nodded and watched him like a hawk.

“James, have you had this dream before?” Bucky shook his head. It was the first time he actually ever dreamt of Steve in awhile. “Do you think that Steve’s death caused you to wake up with the knife aimed towards your own body? What did you feel when you woke up?”

“I felt abandoned. But I also felt like I had actually done it. I checked on him after, to make sure it wasn’t real,” Bucky replied. His eyes met hers. She had nice eyes. They were this chocolaty brown, gold in the sunlight. “He was asleep. I wanted to get in his bed, but I didn’t.”

“Are you close with Steve?” Bucky almost smiled at his name. He nodded, eyes lost in the sky again. “Do you have feelings towards him? Maybe more than friendship?” She really knew where she was going with this. Bucky smirked. The thought made his stomach swirl.

“I… don’t know. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. We’ve been close for so long, even through the war.” Bucky’s voice choked in his throat. He knew immediately that he had made a mistake in saying that. She didn’t ask what war though. Maybe she was trained not to dig to from into confidential business. “And then I forgot him and everything spiraled out of control from there. I’ve only been back with him for a week. But I can’t anyway because he likes girls... I think.” The doctor nodded as she wrote down more of his words. Bucky was careful not to go into depth about their past. He wasn’t sure if she was supposed to warn S.H.I.E.L.D about suspected Winter Soldier activity, or any assassin activity for that matter.

“I see here that you have had experiences with cocaine and alcohol. Do you have an addiction?” she asked.

“No. I just go to take the edge off.”

“From what?” It was all the same questions. Bucky didn’t see the point in talking to her when he could be at home with Steve. He never understood how people got through this stuff. He crossed his legs, ankle resting on his knee. His foot shook quickly, a nervous tick. She watched him and wrote the observation down. Bucky tried to stop.

“From my head. From the nightmares and the panic attacks.” Dr. Lobel got up from her seat. She went to her desk and poured him a glass of water, which he happily took in two hands. She picked up a stack of large cards and sat back down, crossing her legs.

“Okay, James. I’m going to hold up a card. Tell me what you see,” she explained. The first card was stupid. It looked like a tree. They got more complicated as she went through. Eventually one looked like a mountain and deep ravine. Everything flooded in too quickly. Bucky swallowed hard. He went to drink his water, but the cup was already empty. “James, what do you see?” He shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly. “I need to know. It’s okay for you to tell me.”

“You think I don’t know that? Do you think I’m stupid? It looks like a fucking mountain, okay? It reminds me of Steve. It reminds me of everything I went through. The torture, the training, the memory loss. I’m done with the fucking cards,” he snapped. The doctor nodded as she put them away. “I’m done talking to you today.”

“James, I’m going to prescribe you some antidepressants and sleep medication. I’d like to chat with Steve before you leave, okay?” Bucky got up from his seat and walked out of the office. He stopped next to Steve outside. His eyes met a red head sitting next to him. She looked familiar, looked like she didn’t trust him.

“I want to leave,” he whispered. Steve smiled.

“Buck, this is Natasha. She’s the friend I told you about,” he said. They stand in front of Bucky. He didn’t like how close they were to each other. Bucky wanted to slip in between them, separate them. Natasha extended her hand out of politeness.

“Nice to meet you, James,” she greeted. Her smile was tight and fake, but it was well practiced. It looked like an expression he had learned once. Bucky shook her hand without a word. She had a strong grip, and now she looked even more familiar. “Well, I better be going, Steve.” They hugged right in front of him. Her eyes were on his the whole time. And then she was gone. Bucky remembered shooting someone with red hair once, straight through their stomach.

Bucky stood at the window again. He listened to Steve’s conversation with the doctor. He couldn’t remember her name though. She was telling him that Bucky couldn’t sleep with a knife anymore and explaining the dose of his medications. She didn’t say any thing else, which Bucky was grateful for. He didn’t want to worry Steve too much.

“You ready?” Steve said from behind him. Bucky nodded and followed him out. He tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, nervously hiding his arm. The guards at the front waved him past the security checks and out the door without any problems this time.

The drive home was painfully silent. Bucky’s hand was in the middle of them, hoping for some contact. He felt alone and cold. This driver wouldn’t turn the heat on. Bucky draped his arms around himself. His eyes were getting heavy from sleep deprivation and he wanted to go home. He felt Steve’s eyes on him. Then he heard the click of a seat belt and Steve sliding over the leather seats. Steve’s arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulder. He held him close. Bucky burrowed against his form, searching for warmth. He wanted to grab Steve’s fingers and never let go.

**

“Okay, Buck. You have to take the Prozac twice a day, one in the morning and one at noon. Today you’ll start with once though,” Steve explained. He set a pill in front of Bucky on the table alongside a glass of water.

“Side effects?” Bucky was skeptical about the medication. He had never really taken pills on a daily basis before.

“The pharmacist told me all of that.” Steve sat down across from him. “You’re depression can get worse. You have to tell me if you notice any changes like mood swings, anxiety, or more panic attacks. Bucky, there’s also a risk of suicidal thoughts or actions.” Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat. The dream was swirling in his head again. “Please don’t keep it to yourself if anything happens.” Bucky nodded, amused by how much Steve sounded like a doctor. He examines the pill closely. It was a white oval with a G on one side and FL 20 on the other. He wondered what that meant. Bucky placed it on his tongue and dry swallowed it, gulping down water afterwards.

“I’m going to be fine, Steve. Don’t worry about me,” Bucky insisted. Steve only looked even more scared for him. Bucky hated seeing him like this. He hated disturbing Steve’s life so much. He wished he could just go back to before and fix everything, make it all better.

“And then you take one of these before bed every night.” Steve placed a bottle of sleeping pills on the table. They were just regular ones you could buy at the store. “Buck, why can’t you sleep with your knife anymore?”

“No reason, just a precaution,” Bucky replied.

“She wouldn’t have told me to take them away if it wasn’t serious.” Bucky looked at Steve. He didn’t want to tell him, or worry him anymore. He didn’t like all of the attention he was getting. Bucky raked his fingers through his hair.

“It’s just because of the nightmares. I do stuff in my sleep that could be dangerous sometimes.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Bucky, what happened?”

“Nothing, Steve. I’m fine.” Bucky got up from the table, grabbing the medications. He walked down the hall and into his room. He couldn’t remember every place he had put a knife, but he looked everywhere possible: under the pillows, in the dresser, behind a mirror, and in his jacket. Bucky opened another drawer and pulled his sidearm out too. He wanted to take all of the necessary precautions just so Steve could rest easily. He met Steve at the table again, setting the knives and gun down in front of them. Steve took the gun from the table and removed the ammo. He disappeared for a moment to put everything away in places in his room Bucky wouldn’t look for them.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked when he returned to the kitchen.

“I…” Bucky sighed. He decided to tell him the truth. “Almost.”

“What do you mean almost?” Steve asked. Bucky turned away from him. He went to the fridge and messed with the magnets stuck to it.

“I woke up from a nightmare, had the knife in my hands ready to stab myself in the stomach.” Bucky stuck a magnet to his metal fingertip. “No big deal.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Steve, you always ask that.” Steve just stared at him. “You have a life, I don’t like controlling it.” Bucky crossed the room, pushing past Steve. He slipped his boots on again and placed his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going out. I’ll be back later.” Bucky was out the door before Steve could say anymore. He pushed his hood over his head and ran down the stairs of the apartment building. He didn’t know where he was going. He just wanted to escape.

Bucky crinkled his nose at the rain. He shrunk farther into his coat and stayed close to the shop fronts. There were few people out and the cars were all driving too slowly. He slipped into a small bookstore. It was warm and had a cozy feeling. He removed his hood and walked amongst the books. Bucky always liked reading, but they could never afford many books to actually read.

“Can I help you?” a girl in the back asked. She was short and had curly caramel hair. Her eyes were happy. She belonged in this place.

“No thanks,” Bucky replied softly. He ventured deeper into the shelves, looking over the hundreds of titles. His head was cloudy and he had lost any appetite for food. Maybe that was a side effect of his medicine. Bucky rubbed his eyes as he picked up a book. It was a fantasy novel, nowhere close to reality. He thought about buying it, but he remembered he didn’t have any money with him. Bucky slid down a wall. He pulled his knees close to his body and opened the book. It felt nice in his hands, like an escape from his own mind.

Everything was so detailed, so fluid and beautiful. Bucky got lost in the words. He was completely immersed in the story. He could have stayed there forever, living the world he wished he could actually run away to.

“Sir, um the store’s closing. I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the girl said. Bucky didn’t hear her at first. He looked up, confused.

“What time is it?” he asked. He stood up and placed the book back on the shelf. He didn’t want to leave the story. The girl took the book off again.

“It’s nearly ten o’clock.” She turned it over in her hands and opened the back cover. The girl took a pen from her pocket and scribbled something inside. “Do you want to buy this?”

“I don’t have any money…”

“Go ahead and take it. I’ve got plenty.” She smiled at him and placed it in his hands. Her eyes lingered on his metal fingers. “Have a good evening.” And that was that. Bucky left the shop. It was completely dark outside. The streetlights created an eerie yellow glow. Bucky’s pace quickened as his eyes examined the shadows. He could have sworn he heard someone following him, or saw something move down an alley. He pushed open the door to the apartment building and closed it behind him.

When he got inside of Steve’s home, there was only one light on. The T.V. was turned down low, playing some random show about space. Bucky locked the door and set his book down. He took off his boots and his jacket and stepped quietly into the house. Steve was asleep on the couch, head resting on his hand. His chest rose and fell softly with his soft breathing. Bucky smiled. Steve looked so peaceful.

“Steve,” he whispered. “I’m back.” Steve’s blue eyes fluttered open. He yawned into his palm and stretched his arms over his head. The muscles in his chest tugged and pulled underneath his shirt, and Bucky wanted to touch them. “Hey,” Bucky murmured.

“Where’d you go?” Steve asked. Bucky sighed. He leaned against the wall.

“Just down the street. Got a book,” he replied. He held the book up for proof, so Steve wouldn’t question if he were lying.

“You always loved books.”

“I know, I remembered that part when I went into the store.” Steve turned off the T.V. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to though,” Steve said. “Just in case.”

“I’m going to go to bed,” Bucky muttered. He started walking towards his bedroom. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” Bucky entered his bedroom. He stared at the two bottles of medication on the nightstand. He felt a little better, but everything was all foggy and his stomach was hurting like crazy. He striped out of his jeans and climbed into bed in his boxers and a t-shirt. Bucky popped the lid off of the sleep medicine and poured a pill into his palm. It was small and blue. He swallowed it with water and fell against his pillows. Nothing was comfortable and everything was too warm. He kicked the blankets off of himself, tossing and turning in the bed.

Two hours had passed and his head was pounding inside of his skull. He furrowed his brows and sat up, regretting the quick motions when his vision blurred. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The sleep medicine hadn’t worked at all. He felt like it was conflicting with the other stuff he had taken. His fingers reached his hair and he raked them through it. Bucky opened the door to his bedroom and walked down the hall. He gently opened Steve’s door, looking in at the sleeping Avenger.

Bucky swore he could hear his own heart beating as he closed Steve’s door behind him.

“Steve,” he muttered. Steve stirred. He sat up, eyes heavy with sleep.

“What is it?” Steve croaked.

“I can’t sleep… Can I… sleep here?” Bucky voice was a quiet whisper. He was nervous to be there with Steve. He was nervous to climb into the other man’s bed and try to find comfort from his mind. Steve scooted over and patted the space next to him. Bucky’s heart only raced faster.

“Sure,” he said, half asleep. Bucky slipped underneath the covers. He could feel Steve’s feet against his own as he looked at his blue eyes. He wasn’t sure if Steve knew what was going on.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you woke me this time.” Bucky smirked. He tried to be as close to Steve as possible without looking obvious. But then Steve’s arm worked its way on top of Bucky’s side and everything froze. It was so quiet and they were so close. Bucky felt safe and didn’t want to ever leave that spot. Steve’s eyes were closed now, but he was still awake, still holding Bucky. Bucky closed his eyes and buried his face into Steve’s shirt. He inhaled his scent and smiled to himself. It all felt right, like this was completely normal. He somehow felt like he used to sleep with Steve like this all of the time, but he brushed the thought away. Steve’s breathing evened out. Bucky listened to it. He listened to the sound of his best friend being alive, completely at peace for the first time in months.


	4. if you were me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, sorry about that. Kind of a filler chapter, kind of not.

Everything had gone by so quickly. It had only been two weeks since the first therapist appointment, and Steve thought that Bucky’s recovery was coming along well. Except he was different. It wasn’t just being different from how he was from before the war; it was being different from how he had been three weeks ago. Bucky’s eyes were foggy and emotionless now. Sometimes it felt like there was only a little bit of James left in him. Steve stayed by his side the whole time though. It had become a sort of routine for Bucky to come into his room at night and slip underneath the covers silently. Steve wasn’t sure if he should worry about that, but he didn’t say anything because he enjoyed sleeping next to him at night.

Steve had started taking Bucky to Dr. Lobel twice a week now. He thought it would help more. He mentioned the personality change to her one day, but she said it was normal. She explained that he should be back to normal when he got used to the medication. Bucky was in there now, talking about who knows what with her. Steve felt slightly jealous about how much he told her. He felt cut off from all of Bucky’s emotions and thoughts.

“Is crazy in there?” Steve looked up from his paper. He met Natasha’s green eyes.

“Don’t call him that,” Steve replied, slightly annoyed by the nickname she gave him. “But yeah, _Bucky’s_ in there.” She smiled and sat down next to him.

“Jeez, Steve. I was just messing with you. What is he, your boyfriend?” she prodded. Steve blushed at the suggestion. He turned the page of the paper.

“No. Just my best friend.”

“Hey, do you want to get a coffee? You’ve got some time to kill, right?” Steve glanced at his watch. There were still forty-five minutes left of the appointment. He folded his paper and set it on the table beside him.

 “Sure, I’ll buy.” They get up and head down to the food court. Steve treated them to a large coffees and a sandwich to split. They sat at a table away from too many people.

 “You know who’s cute?” she began. Steve gave her a “really” look, raising his eyebrows and taking the lid off of his coffee. “That one girl from the gun range. What’s her name? Kathy, right?” Steve ignored her and sipped his coffee.

“Too busy for dates, Nat,” he replied.

“Do you even like girls, Rogers? Not that it matters, just curious,” Natasha inquired. She bit into her half of the sandwich and cussed when mustard dripped on her blouse. Steve handed her a napkin, not watching as she wiped the spot off of her breast.

“I’m not going to answer that question.” There was a flush on his cheeks that he was well aware of. He tried to hide it, dipping his head down. He cleared his throat and began a sketch on one of the napkins.

“Wait, now you have to tell me. C’mon Rogers, I don’t ask you for much.”

“You ask me for a lot actually,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do you like both? Or just dudes?” Steve began to eat his half and avoided her gaze. “I’m just going to assume you are gay now, okay?”

“If you’re allowed to keep secrets, so am I,” Steve cut in. He chuckled when she huffed with an annoyed look on her face.

“Anyway, how’s the whole Winter Soldier project going?”

“Can’t you just call him Bucky, or James?” Steve questioned.

“He’s not the James I knew anymore, Steve.”

“If you tell me your story with him, I’ll answer your question.” Natasha’s eyes lit up as she thought the deal over. “Maybe I’ll even tell you who I’m actually interested in… if anyone comes up.” She smirked at the last part.

“Okay, deal.” Natasha took a long drink of her coffee. “Once upon a time, I was a student in the Red Room. I was in program codenamed Black Widow OPs. I was biologically enhanced, as you know, and was taught under the _Winter Soldier’s_ instruction. We were together… as lovers.” Steve raised his eyebrows. “briefly and it wasn’t much. That’s the only part of my story that involves him. He forgot all about me soon after once he got involved with Hydra.”

“So you are both defected assassins then.”

“Yes, but it took him a lot longer to leave them than it did for me,” Natasha added. “We were best friends. I was closer to him than I was with anyone else and he shot right through me. He tired to kill you, Rogers. That’s why I don’t trust him.” Steve looked down at his coffee. It was getting cold. “Everyone knows my story now, except that one little part. That’s off the records, always was. Now spill before you have to go.” Steve sighed. He nervously dragged his hands over his face.

“Nat, I actually really don’t know.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “No, don’t do that. Before I died, stuff like that wasn’t aloud. It was a sin. People were arrested for being openly gay if the police felt like it. Now I’m just… conflicted. I don’t know what’s right.” Steve stared at his coffee and his halfway finished sketch. “It’s how I was raised, you know?” Natasha smiled.

“Well, I don’t give a damn about who you like, okay? But just know that it’s okay for you to do whatever the hell you want now and days,” she reassured him. He smiled at her. It felt nice for someone to say that to him. He needed it. “ _Is_ there someone?” Steve met her eyes. He tried to get her to read what he wanted to say in the look he gave her. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding,” Steve replied. “He’s my best friend. I’ve never felt like this around him before. Well... actually I have. For a long time, now.”

“I don’t trust him, Steve. I don’t.”

“He’s trying his best, Natasha. What would you do if you had had your brain wiped clean every day?” He knew he stepped over a line.

“I _was_ brainwashed, Steve. And I  _fought_ back. Did you see him fighting back? No. He went right along with it until the end,” she snapped. Steve internally kicked himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, eyes sincere. 

“I know. It’s alright.” She finished off her sandwich. “But if he touches you wrong, he’s dead.” Steve smirked and shook his head, continuing his sketch. “I meant in a violent way! You two can do whatever you want in bed, I don’t give a shit.” He blushed brightly and looked away. His stomach swirled at the image. The two finished their coffees and headed back up to the 35 th floor. Bucky was just walking out of the office when Steve and Natasha entered the waiting room.

“How’d it go?” Steve asked. He handed Bucky a coffee he had bought him before they left.

“Alright,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were red and his cheeks were blotchy. Something bad must have been brought up in there. Dr. Lobel stepped out of the office holding her notes on Bucky.

“I’m going talk to her real quick. Okay?” Steve said, squeezing Bucky's shoulder lightly. He led the doctor away where Bucky couldn’t hear them. “What happened in there, what’d you say to him?”

“You know I can’t tell you that information, Steve,” she replied. “He went down that path on his own. I didn’t cause it. I wouldn’t do that.” Steve nodded.

“Is he okay though?”

“He’s perfectly fine. It’s healthy for him to have conversations like that. Just keep an extra eye on him.” Steve left her in the hall. He wasn’t quite convinced that Bucky was okay. When he returned to the waiting room, Natasha and Bucky were having a conversation together. It didn’t look friendly though. She stopped talking when she spotted Steve.

“Ready to go, Buck?” Steve asked. He met her eyes and gave her a look. 

“I better be going, see you later, fossil,” she said. She turned on her heel and walked away, hips swaying. Bucky chuckled at the nickname.

“Yeah, fossil let’s go,” he joked. Steve sighed and laughed with him. He hated that nickname. He didn’t say anything about Bucky being a fossil as well. He worried it might trigger something. When they got to the ground floor, Bucky looked at him. “C’mon, you can say it.”

“Say what?” Steve’s heart pounded as he started to think about what Natasha was talking to Bucky about.

“I’m a fossil too, aren’t I?” He had a smile on his face and Steve could only smile back.

“Yes. I guess you are, Buck.” They go through security and exit the building. Steve and Bucky slipped into a warm cab and sat closely to each other, not seeing the point of leaving space between them. When they get home, Bucky took his pill and ate a bowl of ramen noodles. He had discovered the side effects weren’t as bad when he ate with the pill.

“How are you feeling today?” Steve asked, pouring himself a cup of juice. He sat next to Bucky at the kitchen table.

“Good, not any different.” Steve didn’t prod about the appointment. Instead he asked about Natasha.

“What were you and Natasha talking about?” Bucky stopped eating.

“Nothing important, just small talk,” he replied. Steve knew he was lying. He knew Natasha told him not to touch Steve.

“Listen, if she thinks you’re a threat, just ignore her.”

“I know she doesn’t trust me. I don’t care, I know I’m okay.” Bucky finished off his soup, drinking the broth from the bowl.

“Do you remember her though?” Steve inquired. He was careful not to seem to eager to have a conversation with him.

“Kinda, not really.” Bucky put an old vinyl on the record player. “Do you know if we were close?” The music started with a quiet piano melody. Steve liked that Bucky played his music so much. He liked sharing the past that he held onto with him.

“You used to be her superior in the Red Room academy. That’s all I know,” Steve said. He didn’t want to tell him about their relationship. He felt like if he did, Bucky would try to rekindle the relationship again. Steve felt a little rude about keeping that from Bucky, but he didn’t want to get less attention from him. Bucky sat on the couch and started to read another one of his books. It was all he did lately. Steve stared at the wall for a moment before he decided to initiate something. He stood up, chair scraping against the wood flooring with a squeak. He walked over to Bucky and held out his hand.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, slightly annoyed. Steve only smiled and Bucky took his hand.

“Do you remember how to dance?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re the one who taught me how.” Bucky blushed as Steve began to lead him in a dorky, off beat dance in the living room. It wasn’t even something real. It was made up and silly. Bucky laughed and smiled as they swung about, fingers entwined. They weren’t that close, but Steve felt like they were. He felt like he had reopened Bucky’s mind and gotten him back again. The music was loud and Steve was lost in Bucky’s smile, his eyes. He could stare at him forever and be okay with it all. Bucky’s socked feet slipped out from under him and they come crashing down with a thud. This time Steve was on top of him. It took a moment for Steve to realize what was going on. Their noses brush as he pushes himself off, hips above Bucky’s. They stayed in that position for who knows how long, just staring into each other's eyes. Steve wanted to start more, but he didn’t. He got off of Bucky and helped him up from the floor. He was slightly annoyed that the moment had been broken, but he knew it was better that way.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured. He held Steve’s hand for a moment, regaining his balance. Steve pulled away and raked his fingers through his hair. Both of their cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied. They each fell onto the couch, shoulders touching. Bucky sighed.

"I haven’t danced in a really long time,” he admitted. Steve smiled and patted Bucky’s shoulder. His arm was around the other man’s, resting on the back of the couch behind him.

“Neither have I, Buck,” he said with a grin. The music had stopped, the record was over, and everything had gotten silent. Steve looked at Bucky who was hanging his head back, resting on Steve’s arm. His hair was soft against his skin. Steve’s fingers slipped into the tangles of Bucky’s hair gently. He was careful, not to quick. Bucky’s eyes opened. He turned his head and met Steve’s gaze.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. Steve didn’t stop.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered back. His fingers traveled across the skin of Bucky’s neck. Bucky had closed his eyes again, breathing softly. Steve was in a daze as he watched him. He looked at the ragged skin of where metal met flesh and grazed it with his fingertips. He began to trace the lines of Bucky’s metal arm, examining the intricate machinery. Steve reached the bright red star, stopping at the first point of it. Bucky’s eyes snapped open. He grabbed Steve’s wrist roughly.

“Please, don’t touch my arm,” he nearly begged. Steve gave him a confused look.

“Why?”

“Just fucking don’t. I hate it.” Steve pulled his hand away. Bucky sat up, placing his elbows on his on knees. He hid his face in his palms. “I’m sorry, I just hate this fucking arm so much. It's not you.” Steve touched his left shoulder. Bucky slapped his hand away. “How many times do I have to say it, Steve?” His medicine was kicking in. Steve could see it in his eyes.

“Sorry, I just wanted to help…”

“With what?”

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky quickly stood up. He briskly disappeared into the bathroom. Steve heard the shower turn on. He leaned his back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the water run.

** 

Bucky came out of the bathroom nearly an hour later. He wore some of Steve’s sweats and no shirt. His skin was still slightly damp. Steve examined his body. The injury from the first night was still on his ribs, but it was scabbed over and nearly healed. His chest and abdomen was extremely fit and muscular. His hair hung around his chin. He had cut it himself while he was in there. Steve stood up, about to say something, but Bucky cut him off by crossing the room in a swift motion. His metal fist flew through the air and collided with Steve’s jaw. Steve was thrown backwards, onto the coffee table. It cracked and collapsed under his weight.

“Bucky, what is it…” Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and punched him again. “Bucky! Stop!” But he didn’t stop. He punched and punched and punched without a single break. Steve saw a small chance and took it. He wrapped his leg around one of Bucky’s and flipped them over. He held the soldier down by his bicep and swung at his jaw. Steve hated fighting back, but Bucky had him hanging on the ropes. Bucky reached up and wrapped his hands around Steve’s neck. He squeezed with all his might, but Steve was able to wrangle free. Pink bruises littered his throat. 

Bucky kicked him off from on top of him. He sent Steve sliding back across the floor and into a wall. The soldier stood and kicked Steve in the stomach. He had lost himself, completely fazed by the medication. Blood sputtered from Steve’s mouth as he kicked him a final time. It was all one quick motion and Bucky barely saw what happened, but Steve got him in a headlock. It wasn’t hard enough to cut off his breathing though. He pulled on Bucky’s hair, trying to get him to stay still. “Buck, you need to snap out of it!” Steve ordered. He held Bucky down, struggling against the strength of his metal arm. “It’s just me. It’s Steve!”

“Stop calling me that!” Bucky choked. He scratched at Steve’s arm and kicked at the floor. “Let go of me!” Steve’s grip faltered for one second and it gave Bucky a huge opportunity to free himself. He slipped out of the grip and got his hand around Steve’s neck again. He struck Steve’s cheek, splitting the skin open. Steve coughed and choked, searching for air. His eyes were desperate and weakening. Bucky met his eyes. He paused, fist hanging in the air.

“Buck- please… just stop…” Steve stuttered. He was broken and bruised, barely hanging on. He could feel the air leaving his lungs. Bucky’s fingers loosened their grip and he sputtered for breath. “Buck, it’s me.” Something in Bucky's eyes changed. Bucky suddenly crawled backwards away from Steve. He bumped into the couch, eyes wide and pupils blown.

“I… I can’t…” Bucky looked at his metal hand. Steve’s blood was caked in the grooves of his knuckles. Steve coughed into his hand. He wiped blood from his lips and caught his breath slowly. Bucky watched him in horror. Steve’s heart was skipping in his chest. He was terrified of what came next. He knew Bucky would want to leave. He knew as soon as Natasha saw him with a bruise she’d turn Bucky in.

“Bucky, it’s only me,” Steve muttered. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, heat in his groin from the extra energy. Bucky tried to wipe the blood off of his hand. Steve got up, stumbling at first, and retrieved a wet washcloth from the kitchen. He took Bucky’s hand in his and began to clean it off. The cloth turned red as he scrubbed Bucky’s arm clean.

“S-stop,” Bucky whispered. He took the cloth from Steve. “You’re worse.” Bucky gently rubbed the cloth on Steve’s wounds. He cleaned the cuts up. He wasn’t as good as Steve was at it. Steve let him clean his face, no matter how much it hurt. He felt like it was his fault that Bucky got so angry. “I don’t like the medicine,” Bucky said. He dropped the cloth. “It makes everything all fuzzy. I don’t feel right when I take it. I feel _mean_ all the time.”

“You don’t have to keep taking it if you don’t want to,” Steve muttered. He was a little angry at Bucky for lashing out like that. He furrowed his brows and stretched his jaw, checking for damage.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Bucky sounded like he meant it. Steve glanced at him.

“I know you are.”

Steve isolated himself inside of his bedroom. There was an icepack on the right side of his face. It was turning his cheek pink. He stared at the ceiling, completely lost. Everything had stopped. They had come so close to being okay, to getting better. He had no clue what he did wrong. He felt like his heart had been torn into a million pieces. Nothing made sense anymore.

“Steve?” Bucky said quietly from the hall. His voice was ragged, unused. It sounded like it did on that first night. 

"Yeah?”

“Are you going to cook tonight?” Steve sighed.

“No, not tonight,” he replied. He heard Bucky walk away from his door. He wanted to run out there and pull him back into his room, onto the bed. He wanted to hold him close and never let go. It was all so difficult. He didn’t know how to handle Bucky anymore. Steve needed help; he needed his partner back.

He listened to the conversation Bucky had on the phone with a take out place. Bucky ordered pizza again. He sounded confused about one of the questions he was asked. He says Steve’s name, telling the person on the other side of the phone who it was for. Could he not remember his own name again? Steve sat up, cringing at the pain in his stomach. He went to a mirror and examined his injuries. The swelling had gone down. The bleeding had stopped. Steve attempted to open his left eye, regretting it when pain surged through the side of his face.

He fell back onto his bed and watched the ceiling fan spin. He cool air felt nice on his cuts. He looked to the nightstand, seeing one of Bucky’s books. He opened it up and flipped through it. Some pages were marked and a lot of quotes were underlined. He smiled, but then he got to the end. There was a phone number written on the back cover with “call me” scribbled under it. Steve’s stomach twisted itself into a knot. He was jealous, annoyed even. He got up from the bed and walked out of his room, knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the book. “Who wrote this?” he asked. He tossed the book onto Bucky’s lap. The other man flinched when it hit him.

“Wrote what?” Bucky asked.

“Open the back cover,” Steve replied. Bucky did so and found the number. He furrowed his brow, confused.

“Steve, I have no idea.” Steve sighed and was about to walk away. “Oh, yeah. It was some girl at that bookstore down the street.” Steve’s breath hitched in his throat. “I never called her, if that’s what you’re so  _bitchy_ about.” Steve hated how he said that word. 

“I’m not being like that. It was just a question.”

“You’re obviously jealous,” Bucky smirked. “It means nothing to me.” He ripped the corner with the number from the book and tore it into little pieces. “Good enough for you?” Steve plopped down on the armchair. “Why does it matter who I hang out with?”

“It didn’t. I was just asking.”

“Quit lying, Steve.” He rolled his eyes at Bucky, looking away.

“It doesn’t okay? I don’t care who you’re spending your time with.” Steve got up and left the living room. He couldn’t stand to look at those damn blue eyes anymore. He really did care about the number, but what did it matter? Bucky would just laugh; say he had to be kidding. Bucky couldn't possibly understand how Steve felt inside. All Steve wanted to do was know what Bucky was feeling. He wanted Bucky to feel the same way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The next chapter will start off SUPER sad. Some plot finally came to me. Don't hate me when I update....


	5. this is the last time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The beginning scene of this chapter may involve TRIGGERS for some people. This begins with severe depression and self harm. If these are triggers for you, please do not read this. Before reading, know that I wrote this from personal experience. I did not write this just to add plot. I wrote what I thought was real for Bucky and necessary for the emotional context.

Bucky’s thumb pushed against the lighter’s switch. He had blocked the window with a blanket, removing all light. A small yellow flame danced in the artificial darkness. Soft sunlight filtered in gently through the blanket. He allowed the flame to travel against his metal fingertips. He wanted to see if he could still feel, but all he felt was a slight tickling sensation as it heated the metal of his palm and created dark, black spots. He bit down on the inside of his mouth as he brought the flame to his right fingers. He held it there only briefly, but the pain forced itself deep up his arm as it flowed through nerves. He craved the pain, the burn. His skin blistered and turned pink quickly under the fire. Bucky fisted his hand, making the pain surge up his arm. He wanted to know that his brain still worked. He held the fire to his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles. Nothing seemed to work. No matter what he tried, he never felt free of guilt. He never felt like everything was okay and that he was happy.

Bucky stared at the unused bottle of antidepressants on the nightstand. His eyes were hooded and dark. Something grew beneath them as he crawled across the floor and grabbed the small orange bottle in his right fist. He popped off the cap and poured every single pill out into his hand. The sound of each pill clinking against metal echoed in the room. He counted each one slowly.

“Thirty-one,” he muttered. His voice was ragged, unused. He pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He was cold, yet his hair stuck to his forehead with salty sweat. His eyes began to sting with oncoming tears, but he blinked them away. He wanted Steve to be there and hold him. He wanted to be cared for, loved. His fingers tugged at his hair roughly. A small whimper escaped his mouth as he picked up the pills. Bucky grabbed his glass of water. He stared at the objects in his hand. The white pills seemed to want to be shoved down his throat. They wanted to seep into his bloodstream and destroy him from the inside out. This was all just the pills working against him. Right?

He had been brainwashed, manipulated, and tortured. This was better. This meant no more. “This isn’t James anymore, is it?” Bucky whispered. He fisted his metal hand, listening to the gears work and click inside of him. Some pills cracked under his heavy grip. He banged his head on the wall behind him. He could do it again and again, bash his head in. Die like that. Messy and bloody. He didn’t know if he was dreaming or not.

Suicide.

It was dark, even for him, for the soldier. It meant release, maybe even another chance at life. Whatever came next would have to be better than now. It would have to be better than all of this suffering, than listening to the screams of agony that swirled in his head.

Suicide.

It is better than life, is it not?

Bucky lifted his hand to his lips. His fingers didn’t shake as he did so. He wasn’t scared of death. He tilted his head back, tears streaming down his cheeks silently. He didn’t cry for himself. He cried for everything he harmed, everything he destroyed.

He cried for Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

He opened his mouth and dropped several pills in. He swallowed and took more. He wasn’t counting anymore. He gulped down water and swallowed the last handful. His throat was sore and he wondered how long it took to feel anything. Bucky pulled on his hair. He let out his sobs and screamed into the darkness. No one was there to save him, and he felt like that was the way it should be. He felt like he was falling off of that train again. He thought he was sitting in a cell, trapped by shadows. Bucky banged his fists on the floor. He didn’t want to hold on any longer. He didn’t want to fake his recovery anymore.

Everything was silent. Bucky’s eyes were glassed over, unblinking. His stomach was tying itself into knots and his brain pounded in his skull. He felt it all working. He felt himself disappearing, being taken from a soul that was no longer his.

**

Steve unlocked the door to his apartment. He entered the warm home, arms full of paperwork from S.H.I.E.L.D. At first, everything was okay. He was happy to be home, happy to be able to spend more time with Bucky.

“Bucky, I’m back!” he yelled from the kitchen. He set all of his paperwork on the table, opening the fridge. There was no reply. Everything was silent and ghostly. He walked down the hall, stopping by Bucky’s door. “Hey, Buck. You want some lunch?” Steve knocked on the door. He attempted to open it, but it was locked. “Bucky, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Steve’s heart began to race under his ribs. He backed away from the door and rammed into it shoulder first. The lock broke with one impact and the door fell through. He was stunned by the darkness. Steve ripped the blanket from the window.

Everything stopped. This wasn’t right. And then he saw him. “Bucky!” he shouted. He dropped to his knees, unable to comprehend the sight of Bucky curled up on the floor. He grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and shook him roughly. “Buck, what happened? Bucky, please wake up!” Steve held him close. He checked his breathing. He didn’t hear or feel anything working. “Hold on, Buck. Everything’s going to be all right. I swear on my life, you’re going to live.” Steve only let go of him to call 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” Steve saw the empty bottle of Prozac on the floor. Tears threatened to fall.

“My best friend has overdosed, _please_ send help right away,” Steve croaked into the phone. He mechanically told her his address and hung up, refraining from the throwing the phone against the wall. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here,” he cried. Steve pulled Bucky into his lap and rocked his body back and forth. “Please stay with me, for the love of God, please.” He nuzzled his nose into Bucky’s hair. “Don’t you remember, Buck? I’m with you ‘til the end of the line. Even if I have to follow you past that,” Steve choked. He held him as tightly as possible. This couldn’t be real. Bucky wouldn’t do this. He was getting better. He was recovering. Steve breathed in Bucky’s scent. He sobbed into the soldier’s hair. “I love you, God damnit,” Steve whispered, wrapping himself around Bucky’s limp body.

EMTs burst into the apartment when Steve didn’t get to the door on time. “I’m in here!” Steve yelled. They came into the room, carrying a red and white gurney. A man pushed Steve aside and checked Bucky’s vitals.

“His heart is still beating, just barely though,” he said. He seemed so unfazed by the little life Bucky had left. Steve didn’t let them put him on the gurney. He did it himself, cradling Bucky close to his chest as he set him down. They strapped him down and carried him out of the apartment, Steve close beside them.

Steve followed them into the ambulance. He didn’t let go of Bucky’s hand the entire way, didn’t stop looking at him. The ambulance seemed to be driving too slowly. He felt like no body was as worried as he was. Maybe they were used to cases like this, but back then it was unheard of.

Steve only gripped Bucky’s hand tighter.

The doctor and nurses didn’t let him follow Bucky into the Emergency Room. He froze outside of the huge swinging doors, pushed aside by countless people. He couldn’t move, couldn’t function. Someone sternly told him to get out of the way, so he shrunk against the wall. He slid down onto the floor and put his head between his knees. He curled up tightly. Steve wanted to block reality, wanted to make himself believe that it was all a dream, but it wasn’t and he was still in a hospital.

He couldn’t catch his breath. Everything was moving too fast. Steve tried his best to not cry, but nothing worked. His shoulders shook with his sobs as he realized just what was happening. His entire world was falling apart right before his eyes. The one thing that brought him joy was slipping through his fingertips like sand. He blamed himself for holding on too tightly. His happiness always slipped through the cracks.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to sit in the waiting room,” a nurse said kindly. Steve looked up and met her eyes. How could she be smiling? Did she not realize that there was a perfect man dying in the next room over?

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, eyes cast low. She led him into the waiting room and sat him down with a cup of lukewarm water. Another nurse briskly walked up to him and handed him a clipboard.

“You’ll need to fill this out for your friend, please.” Steve stared at the papers. All of a sudden he couldn’t remember anything. He wrote down Bucky’s full name carefully and slowly, savoring the spelling and the sound of it in his mind. He didn’t want it to be the last time he ever wrote down Bucky’s full name. Steve answered each question in full detail. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, unsatisfied with what he had written. He answered everything so fluidly for his therapist, but now… Now it was all fading.

He gave it to the nurse at the desk at sat back down without a single word. The lights were hurting his eyes. The chair was uncomfortable and smelt funny. He wanted to sleep and go home. He wanted to curl up beside Bucky in bed and just listen to him breathe.

“Sir, has he had an experience like this before?” the nurse asked from behind the desk. Steve shook his head and dragged his hands over his face.

“I… I don’t know,” he answered. Bucky never seemed suicidal. Of course Bucky’s mental state was rocky and uneven, but Steve never expected it to go this far. He knotted his eyebrows together. His head was throbbing piercingly against his skull. People were pacing near the doors. He felt like he should be one of those nervous waiters, but he knew Bucky was coming out of there _alive_ and breathing. He didn’t let himself believe that Bucky had a chance of dying in there. Bucky was strong, always was. He could survive anything, and Steve held onto that belief.

Hours passed before a pair of blue running shoes stopped in front of him.

“Steven Rogers?” Steve looked up from his gaze on the floor, hand slightly shading his eyes from the lights. He squinted and made out the face of a young doctor.

“Yeah?” Steve replied. His chest clenched painfully as he awaited the news.

“You can see him now. He’s still unconscious, but he’ll be waking up soon,” the doctor said. Steve’s eyes brightened. He followed the doctor into Bucky’s room. The lights were dimmed and he silently thanked the nurses for that.

“Have him drink this right when he wakes up, all right?” a short nurse instructed. She handed Steve a small paper cup filled to the brim with a dark thick liquid.

“O-okay,” Steve nodded, confused by the substance. He set it on a table and returned his focus to Bucky as the nurse hurried out of the room.

Steve sank into a chair near the bed. He placed his elbows on the edge of the mattress and rested his head on his hands. Bucky’s eyes were surrounded by dark and baggy circles. The skin of his cheeks was blotchy and red. His lips were chapped and the red star on his shoulder was faded and flaked on the edges. The metal around it wasn’t as smooth and reflective as it used to be. Bucky must had been scrubbing it with something rough.

Steve sighed and blinked away the sting in his eyes. He tenderly grabbed Bucky’s right hand and held it close to his lips. The skin was soft and rough at the same time. Steve kissed his knuckles lightly, examining the scars from when he destroyed the shower. His hands were so perfect, fingers long and calloused. He desperately wanted to draw them and hold them forever.

Then he noticed the burn marks. They were sporadically spread all over his hand and arm. Steve grazed some with his fingertips and kissed others gently. He knew Bucky did this himself. It was heartbreakingly obvious. He knew Bucky tried to destroy himself from the inside out.

“God, Buck. What did you do to yourself?” Steve whispered, a crack in his voice. He put Bucky’s right hand down and laid it back in place on his stomach. He squeezed the cybernetic fingers of his other hand and doesn’t let go. He felt like this part of Bucky deserved just as much love as all of the other parts.

The metal was cold. Some spots on his palm were black. Steve rubbed a spot with his thumb, smearing the black residue over the metal. Bucky had tried to burn this hand too. Steve kissed the smooth metal, lips lingering on the expert craftsmanship. He wasn’t scared of it. He wasn’t scared of everything it stood for.

Bucky didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to go through this pain and misery. He was too fragile and broken already. Steve felt that one final push would send him over the line.

Steve’s head rested on Bucky’s chest. He felt the extremely slow rise and fall of his breathing. He let himself cry for Bucky again. No one else was there for him to do it.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. Tears immediately sprung to his eyes when he realized he was alive. He looked down and saw Steve’s head on his chest. Steve shot up, hands grasping Bucky’s arm. Bucky’s eyes were more than terrified. They were filled with resentment and sorrow.

“Jesus, Steve. No, oh my fucking God, no,” he croaked. Bucky shook his head. He went to pull his hair, but Steve stopped him. “I… didn’t want this…” His fingers went to rip out his IV. Steve gripped his hand.

“You don’t have to explain,” Steve mumbled. He held him down strongly, not letting go.

“No, I do. I do. The fucking pills.” He grabbed Steve’s arm. “Steve, all of the fucking pills.” He attempted to wipe his tears. Steve rubbed his thumb across Bucky’s cheek, catching several of the salty tears. Steve touched the star on his shoulder, fingers spread over the chipped paint. “I tried to take it off… but…”

“Bucky, shh. It’s okay,” Steve interrupted.

“No, it’s not, Steve! It didn’t work. I’m stupid. I’m fucking stupid. I should have never tried to do any of that.” Steve handed him the small cup of charcoal. He felt bad for interrupting him, but he wanted to make sure he got better as soon as possible.

“They said to drink this when you woke up.” Bucky sat up on an elbow. He smelt the liquid and crinkled his nose.  
  
“Bullshit,” he muttered. Bucky drank it as quickly as possible, swallowing hard when it was gone. “Is there any water?”

“Yeah.” Steve got up and poured water into a small pink cup from a table in the corner. “Here.” Bucky swished it around in his mouth, attempting to get rid of the taste. Steve watched him carefully. He held on to his forearm, reassuring him that he was still there.  
  
“I want to go home.”

“You know we can’t go home right now.” Bucky stared at the ceiling. His eyes were clear and dark, but the life in them was hollow and none existent. “Buck, I should’ve been there. I should’ve stayed home today like I was supposed to…”

“Don’t even start, Steve. You thought I was okay and that’s my fault. I was faking it all. I didn’t want to worry you.” Was none of this real? Were all of Bucky’s feeling just an act?

“But, I could have done something. You could have died.” Steve swallowed hard and looked him straight in the eyes. “I could have stopped you, talked to you. But I wasn’t there.” Bucky stared at the ceiling. His eyes were red.

“Did you say you loved me?” Bucky whispered. He turned his head to look at Steve. Steve’s mouth hung open slightly, lips red and slightly swollen. His heart raced in his chest as Bucky gazed at him. “Did you…”

“Yes.” Bucky bit his bottom lip hard, but it wasn’t for show. He bit it to stop himself from screaming.

“No one _loves_ me.” He spit the word, hissed it like it was something he didn’t deserve to speak of.  
  
“I do,” Steve insisted. He couldn’t look away from Bucky’s heartbroken face.  
  
“You… can’t.”  
  
“But I do, God damnit! Why do you never listen to me?” Steve snapped, clenching his jaw. Bucky looked away and fisted the sheets in his hands.  
  
“No. No you…” Steve surged forward. He grabbed him by the cheeks. Bucky protested and gripped Steve’s wrists, but he did nothing to fight back. He held on, knuckles of his right hand turning white. The space between them vanished within a second.

Steve kissed him.

  
He kissed him like Bucky was the air and he had only just started breathing. He kissed him like Bucky was the ocean and he was drowning in its depths. Bucky whimpered against Steve’s lips. He leaned in, wanting to be closer. Bucky’s hands moved up Steve’s forearms and into Steve’s hair. He tugged at the blond hairline and pulled himself farther in. Steve kept it slow, deep. Bucky’s lips were incredibly soft. They felt like putty against his mouth. He wanted to swallow him whole. He wanted to feel Bucky this close to him for the rest of his life. If this were how they both died he’d be okay with it. Everything he had trapped inside of him came pouring out. He kissed like he meant it and didn’t regret one move of his lips against Bucky’s.

Someone cleared his throat near the door. Steve untangled himself from Bucky’s arms. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, regretting it when the taste of Bucky faded from his lips. They both sat up straight, cheeks flushed and lips pink, and looked at the men in the doorway. They were dressed in new black suits. Transparent earpieces were wired to small radios clipped to their jackets.  
  
“Mr. Rogers, if you’d please step away from Mr. Barnes,” one said, a small smirk spread on his face. The other turned his back and said something into his radio.

“Fuck, Steve. What is this?” Bucky whispered, eyes wide. Steve didn’t move. His body was tense and stiff.

“Please _step away_ from the Winter Soldier, Mr. Rogers.”  
  
“Not until I know exactly what is going on,” Steve said sternly. He was trying to stay composed.

“Restrain him,” the man said to the other. The second man pulled a pair of reinforced handcuffs from his pocket and moved towards Bucky. There was a struggle, but Bucky was weak and complied with frustration. His right arm was handcuffed to the railing of the bed. He couldn’t escape with this arm. “We’d like to have a talk with you, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s in panic. He tugged at the handcuffs weakly as fear worked its way into his eyes. “If you’d please step out of the room now, Mr. Rogers.”

“Tell me what is going on and I will wait right outside,” Steve reworded himself.

“Mr. Barnes is suspected to be connected to the Winter Soldier. We would like to ask a few questions.”  
  
“Under whose authority?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s authority, Sir.” Steve stood, a glare plastered on his face. He gave Bucky’s forearm a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room. He argued with the guard as he attempted to shut the door, saying that wasn’t necessary. But the man threatened Bucky’s safety, so Steve shrank out of the doorway. He stood outside of the window, watching everything that happened. One of the men sat down in Steve’s chair as he opened a file. Bucky nodded to every question he asked, complying without restraint. Steve took out his cell and dialed Natasha’s number.

“Nat, do you know anything about S.H.I.E.L.D agents being sent out to question Bucky?” Steve asked right when she picked up the phone.  
  
“No, let me check the database,” she replied. He waited as she did some quick research into the day’s assignments. “Okay. Two men were ordered to follow a lead on the Winter Soldier today only an hour ago.”

“Yeah. I figured that out when they handcuffed him to the bed,” Steve snapped. He tried to control his anger.

“Steve, where the hell are you?”

“The hospital, Bucky…” His words left him. “Bucky… tried to kill himself.”

“They must have found out about his name being entered there.”

“Nat, I didn’t tell anyone about this except you,” Steve whispered.

“It must have slipped through the system.” She paused. “Or through that doctor of yours.” Steve raked his fingers through his hair. He noticed some commotion inside of Bucky’s room.

“Hold on a second.” Steve pushed past the guard at the door and barged into the room. Bucky was tugging at the handcuffs, ready to strangle the man questioning him. He opened his mouth to yell, but Steve interrupted him. “What’s going on?” Steve inquired.  
  
“Rogers, please step out of the room!” the man ordered.

“ _What is going on_?” Steve repeated, preparing to throw a punch.

“We need to take Mr. Barnes to the Tower. If you could kindly get him to comply…”

“He can’t leave right now!” Steve yelled. “He’s too weak to even get out of bed! Neither of us is leaving this hospital.”

“Then we’ll transport him to the Tower’s infirmary to recover there under proper security.” The man ordered the other guard to have a car prepared to transport Bucky out of the hospital.

“Can I at least have a moment alone with him?” Steve nearly begged. The man hesitated before nodding and stepping out as he radioed an update. Steve closed the door behind him. “Bucky did you tell him?”

“I had to. There was no point in keeping secrets anymore,” Bucky replied.

“Do you have any idea what they are going to do to you?” Steve paced the room. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is quite fond of torture, Buck and…”

“They won’t hurt me if I cooperate.” There was a loud knock at the door.

“Hold on!” Steve yelled. “I might have an idea.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You could promise to… join the rehabilitation programs, get better there. And then maybe…” Another knock interrupted him. “Maybe you could join S.H.I.E.L.D as an agent, to prove yourself.” Two nurses entered the room accompanied by one of the agents.

“Ready to go, Mr. Barnes?” one asked politely. Bucky didn’t respond, annoyed that their conversation had been interrupted. One of the nurses pick up the IV stand as the other moved behind the bed and pushed it away from the wall. Steve stepped out of the way as they wheeled it out. Bucky looked embarrassed, exhausted, and upset. Steve followed close behind. He got into the provided ambulance with Bucky and held his forearm as they drove to Stark Tower.

“It’s going to be fine,” Steve whispered when no one was looking. He planted a small kiss when they got a moment alone in the back. His lips lingered as long as possible, not wanting to be any farther away. Bucky and the bed are set up in one of the secure infirmary rooms. The lights were bright and everything was grey. Steve hated the room. He hated that Bucky had to stay here. He knew how much Bucky hated being confined. Several agents forced him out again. He watched through the interrogation window, knowing Bucky couldn’t see him through it.

“Hey soldier.” Steve turned around.

“Hey,” Steve replied. Natasha stood next to him, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was curled, a different style then usual. Steve almost commented on it, but he figured there were more important matters at hand.

“So what’s going down with cra- I mean James?” she asked. Steve shook his head.

“They’re questioning him about Hydra now I think...” He squeezed the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. “I told him to think about agreeing to a rehabilitation program in the Tower.”

“What makes you think he’ll be okay with living here?”

“Nothing does. It’s just… if he didn’t he’d spend the rest of his life as a political prisoner for all I know. I can’t let him be locked up anymore.” Steve sighed. “I told him he could even become an agent, work with us.” Natasha laughed lightly and smirked at Steve.

“Good luck with that.” She bumped his shoulder playfully, attempting to ease the mood. “Any updates on your love life?” Steve smiled, unable to contain the happiness that came to him at the thought. “Wait, something happened, didn’t it?” she pried.

“I… I kissed him,” Steve admitted with a bright blush on his cheeks. He ducked his head to avoid Natasha’s gaze. She was about to start teasing him, but the last agent left Bucky’s room after filling out several papers and joined them outside.

“Mr. Barnes has agreed to a strict rehabilitation program under S.H.I.E.L.D authority. He will now be living in Stark Tower until he can be further trusted without security observation,” he explained. Steve was about to say something about how Bucky could indeed be trusted, but he stopped himself at risk of worsening the situation. “You are welcome to move in with him, due to your current… um relationship.” Natasha chuckled behind Steve, only receiving a disapproving glance from the agent. “Until further notice, James B. Barnes is now a resident of Stark Tower.” The agent briskly walked away without another word.

“Wait! Can I see him?” Steve yelled after him. He didn’t receive an answer, but Natasha was already walking into the room. Steve attempted to stop her, pull her out, but she was already inside.

“Hey, James. You remember me yet?” she clucked. Bucky furrowed his brow.

“Not specifically,” he replied. “Unless I shot you right through the gut one time.” There was a tired smirk tugging at his lips.

“Hm, that does ring a bell. Doesn’t it?” Steve expected her to show off her scar again, but she didn’t. Instead she stepped aside so Steve could go to Bucky’s bedside. He was completely taken over by joy. They had been apart for hours. Bucky grabbed his wrist when Steve got close enough. He pulled the supersoldier down and hugged him tightly, but he wanted so badly to feel Steve’s lips against his again. Natasha giggled. “I’m still here, lovebirds,” she teased.

“Sorry, Nat,” Steve blushed. He sat down on the edge of Bucky’s bed.

“I better get going. Oh, and you might want to clear up the rumors about you and James. Stark heard about that kiss through the agent reports and has already spread it like wildfire.” Bucky snorted behind Steve, covering his mouth with a small laugh. “See you later, fossil.” Steve said goodbye as she walked out and closed the door.

“Wait, what’s her name?” Bucky asked.

“Natasha, why?”

“You mean _Natalia_ , don’t you?” Steve gave him a confused look.

“Bucky, we just know her as Natasha.”

“I think I know her.” Bucky puffed out his cheeks. “But that’s a memory for another day.” Steve smiled and patted Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky stared at him, blue eyes vivid. “Is this a thing now?” he asked quietly. Steve sighed.  
  
“Only if you want it to be,” he replied with a soft smile.

“What do you want, Steve?” Steve was silent at first. He gathered the words in his head carefully, not wanting to screw up.

“I want… you to be happy, Buck.” Bucky grinned. He bit his lip and grabbed Steve’s cheeks. He pulled the man close and hugged him tightly.

“None of that was your fault. It was all me.” Steve’s fingers took Bucky’s metal hand in his own. Bucky loved that he didn’t neglect his left hand. He loved that Steve wasn’t scared of it. He was slightly hesitant to hold Steve’s hand back. He didn’t want to hurt him.

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. I’ll get through this. I swear,” Bucky whispered. Then they were hugging again, so close and inseparable. Steve’s hands were deep in Bucky’s hair. He fit into the crook of Bucky’s neck perfectly like a puzzle piece. It all seemed meant to be. It seemed right and simple. Steve wondered why they never had taken the chance, never did anything in secret. Those were questions for another day though, maybe a day when Bucky could remember that past.

“I’m moving in with you,” Steve suddenly insisted. He looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Aw, Steve. I don’t want you to just leave your apartment behind,” Bucky argued. He wasn’t going to budge on this. “You love that place.”

“I _want_ to be with you, Buck.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “We can move back in when you’re all better if you want. But for now, I’m staying by your side the whole way.” Steve smiled softly. “And you can tell me anything, talk to me about anything. I’m not here to judge you.” Bucky grinned then, his eyes tired and somewhat hollow.

“I know, kid,” he teased. Steve chuckled as Bucky messed with his blond locks. “I used to call you that, didn’t I?”

“All of the time.”

“I remember that.” Bucky snorted and gave Steve a goofy smile. “I’m the stupid one now though, aren’t I?” he asked. Steve frowned.

“No you’re not,” he replied. Steve’s thumb traced Bucky’s eyebrow. “You just made a mistake, it’s okay.” Steve pulled himself onto the bed, so he could further hug Bucky.

“I just… I didn’t mean to mess up that badly, Steve.”

“I know, Buck. I know.” Steve enclosed him in his arms, reminding him that he was still there. “The most important thing is that you’re _okay_ ,” Steve whispered. His lips brushed against Bucky’s forehead softly.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I felt like what I was doing was the only way.” Bucky’s fingers gripped Steve’s shirt. “I felt like that was the only escape, you know? It just seemed so freeing to finally… get away.” Bucky never told something like this to his therapist. He never said it out loud. “I didn’t even know if it would work. When I was working for _them_ , I thought I could never die. I went through so much pain, and I thought whatever they did to me made sure I wouldn’t fall over that edge. I just wanted to see if I could still fee,” he explained quietly. Steve knew there were cameras in the room, knew they were being watched, but he didn’t care. He rubbed circles into Bucky’s scalp.

Steve thought about replying. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was always bad with consoling people, especially Bucky.

Instead he just lied next to him and tried to comfort through soft touches and gentle kisses. He knew Bucky understood what he was feeling. “Sometimes I felt so alone, but then you let me in and I got so much closer to being better,” Bucky mumbled.

“I’m never going to leave you alone again, Bucky,” Steve assured him.

Bucky looked up. He felt a weight lift off of his shoulders after saying all of those secrets to Steve. He felt like he could trust someone in the first for years.

“I feel like… we should discuss this more,” Bucky suddenly said, gesturing to their tangled bodies on the bed. Steve smiled and hugged the smaller man tighter. Bucky still thought it was strange to be smaller than him, even though he couldn’t quite remember the time when he wasn’t. It didn’t feel correct to be the little spoon, or whatever it was called.

“What is there to discuss?” Steve asked in all seriousness.

“Well the fact that the most patriotic man in America just kissed another guy is something for a start,” Bucky teased lightheartedly. He nuzzled his nose into Steve’s collarbones and inhaled deeply. He thought about why he was suddenly so comfortable with him, why he was able to pour the very depths of his heart out without hesitation. “And also that I’m so damn relaxed right now.”

“I took the chance because I felt like you needed to know how I felt. I kissed you because you had to see how much I really do _love_ you,” Steve whispered. “It was weird at first. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it because of how we were raised.”

“It was a sin, right?”

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve sighed as Bucky listened to the rumble of Steve’s voice in his chest. “But I got convinced that it didn’t matter anymore, so I didn’t fight my feelings.”

“Can you kiss me again?” Bucky asked almost inaudibly. He bit down on his lip, nervous about requesting that of Steve. Steve slid down slightly, so his face was in line with Bucky’s. They just stared at each other for a moment, memorizing how the muscles in their faces moved and how their eyes blinked. Bucky was swallowed into the blue of Steve’s eyes. He wanted to look at them forever. He’d be okay if this was the last thing he ever saw because he thought they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.  
  
“You have pretty eyes,” Steve murmured, almost like he was reading Bucky’s mind.

“So do you,” Bucky murmured back. He watched the tips of Steve’s ears turn pink at the compliment. “But seriously, that… kiss?” He felt his cheeks warm as he asked the question again. Steve smiled, his thumb brushing the stubble on Bucky’s jawline.

“Of course,” he whispered. This time, he didn’t rush it. Their lips met in the middle tenderly, learning how they fit together.

Steve kissed Bucky delicately. He cupped the brunet’s cheeks and let Bucky go where he wanted to. Bucky’s lips were indulgent and chapped. They felt like they belonged against Steve’s, moldable and sensitive. Bucky’s mouth fell open and his tongue gently grazed across Steve’s lips. Steve followed, letting Bucky move his tongue into his mouth. Their tongues met and Steve was lost in how amazing it felt. His eyelids flickered as he concentrated on the taste and feel of Bucky.

Everything had slowed to a stop, and Bucky felt like they were the only people in the entire world. Heat had flowed into their groins as the kiss became hungrier and their bodies rubbed closer together. Steve didn’t plan on taking it any farther. He stayed respectable and slowed it down. He didn’t want to move to quickly for Bucky’s sake.

Steve pulled his mouth away from Bucky’s. He saw the disappointed look in the other man’s eyes, so he planted several quick kisses on his lips and jawline.

“Everything about that was perfect,” Bucky mumbled, upset with his unsatisfied arousal. He shifted under the sheet, so Steve wouldn’t notice anything.

“You don’t have to ask anymore,” Steve said. Bucky snorted.

“That was cheesy, Steve.” They chuckled quietly as if to keep a secret, noses brushing together. “But I’m so glad you said it.”


	6. song for you

Christmas passed while Bucky was in the infirmary. Steve barely left his side. He stayed throughout his recovering days reading to him, or secretly drawing him while he slept. Tony had helped Steve set up an apartment for the two of them, but it was really almost an entire floor. He was full of questions about their relationship, teasing about who will get to plan the wedding. Steve brushed the banter off though and focused on Bucky’s rehabilitation more than where they were now… or where they would ever be.

Bucky was upset that he didn’t get to give Steve a present, promising to make up for it once he was out of bed and on his feet again. Steve tried to convince him it was fine, but he insisted on it. Steve gave Bucky a new book and a long handwritten letter that was torn from one of Steve’s journals. Bucky smiled while reading the letter. It caught him up on a lot of old memories, but not everything. He kept it in a drawer of their dresser after that, safely tucked beside his socks. When Bucky finally convinced his supervising agent he was okay to leave unattended, he went out to buy Steve a gift. He wasn’t quite sure what to buy since he couldn’t remember much of what Steve liked, but he managed to decide on a new sketchbook (Steve filled them up to quickly) and a set of charcoal pencils. All that could be said was that Steve absolutely loved it.

Bucky went to therapy nearly every day after that. He started out by himself, just sitting with one doctor calmly talking, but then he eventually moved into the larger support groups. They were all mostly veterans, battling demons from past wars. Sometimes they didn’t understand Bucky like Steve did. But as Bucky began to speak more, smile more, he made new friends. Only mutual friends, no one like Steve, but he did and that was a step forward.

The two soldiers didn’t even try to sleep in separate rooms after Bucky’s time in the infirmary. Every night Bucky stayed up later than Steve, but he always silently slipped underneath the thick covers and wrapped his arms around Steve’s frame; each night greeted by a soft noise and a light kiss from Steve.

There were nightmares. Occasionally they were violent. Bucky would scream and sob after these ones, clinging for dear life onto Steve. Steve eventually learned how to sooth his choked cries and ragged breathing. He learned how to lull Bucky back into a hushed sleep. He would rub gentle circles on Bucky’s skin and the smooth metal of his arm and whisper sweet nothings into his ears. Sometimes he would even hum an old lullaby quietly against Bucky’s dark hair.

These nightmares always had to be reported, it was required of them. It annoyed Steve that they were known as “incidents of violence”. It made him think that everyone looked at Bucky as a dog in training.

The team slowly adapted to Bucky’s presence at Steve’s side. Bruce was enthusiastic about the mechanics of his arm, more so than Tony. They would often eat lunch all together. It always ended up on questions about Bucky’s time with Hydra, soon followed by Steve rushing them out of the room with a made up excuse before Bucky had a chance to yell. They didn’t respect Bucky’s need to forget his past life as an assassin yet. 

** 

Bucky Barnes did not have to be _fixed_.

Tony Stark made this mistake on occasion, suggesting that Bucky replace his arm with a more humanlike and flesh colored model. One that felt like skin. Steve didn’t allow this kind of talk. He constantly reminded Bucky of how perfect he already was. He reminded him that his arm was apart of him and Steve loved every inch of it just as he loved everything else. Those words always worked on Bucky, always put him in an affectionate daze.

Rehabilitation seemed incredibly slow to Steve. He wanted to see Bucky better now, not in a few months. He wanted to be able to hold and kiss him without triggering some sort of attack. That was normal right? Everyone with a recovering loved one felt like that, they had to. Or Steve was just impatient. He didn’t know. But for Bucky Barnes, rehabilitation was faster than normal. He blasted through his solo therapy sessions with flying colors, only rarely falling back a few steps from his nightmares. He no longer needed medicine. He didn’t need clean slates and fresh starts.

For Bucky, Steve was the only medication he ever needed.

** 

            “Can I just skip therapy today?” Bucky groaned as he flopped onto their shared bed. “I’m sick of finger painting and talking about our _feelings_.” He whined the word “feelings” into Steve’s pillow. Steve chuckled from the other side of the room as he finished putting away some of Bucky’s new clothing. It had been just over two months since Bucky and Steve moved into the Tower.

            “You know I’d love if you got to stay home, but you can’t quit until you get approval,” Steve replied with a grin. He sat on the edge of the bed and tapped Bucky’s foot. “And I actually like your finger paintings. They’re cute.” Bucky snorted out of disapproval and gave him a look.

            “Shut up,” he mumbled, rolling off of the bed. “They’re not cute and neither am I.” Steve grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back down.

            “Yes you are,” he argued with a smirk, fingers still wrapped around Bucky’s hand.

            “Punk.”

            “Jerk.” Bucky smiled and kissed Steve lightly, so he’d leave him wanting more. “If you go, I’ll make dinner tonight.”

            “I better get going then.” Bucky loved when Steve made dinner. He had gotten in the habit of making it for Steve, feeling natural and right like he used to always do it. He was surprisingly good at it, but Steve was slightly better.

Bucky pulled on a sweater over his white undershirt and slipped his boots on, which were now free of holes. Steve walked him out, kissing him before he got into the elevator.

            “Don't get in any fights,” Steve teased softly against Bucky’s lips.

            “Not without you,” Bucky replied. He placed a small kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth and slid into the elevator smoothly. 

            “J.A.R.V.I.S?” Steve asked, looking at the ceiling. Steve often took advantage of the accented computer system that was installed throughout the Tower. It was nice having somewhat of a personal assistant always at the ready, but Bucky hated it. He said he felt like it was always watching, although J.A.R.V.I.S. was one of the only “people” that respected privacy in the Tower. 

            “Yes, Captain Rogers?” J.A.R.V.I.S replied automatically. Steve poured himself a mug of coffee as he spoke, a smile on his face.

            “Can you get Natasha up here?”

            “Right away, Sir.” Steve checked the calendar that hung on the fridge to make sure he had the date right. He smiled even wider when he did. He patted his thigh and whistled, calling the German shepherd that Bucky’s therapist instructed them to adopt. She said it would help with recovery and provide another “security blanket” for Bucky when he was home alone. Steve surprised him with the dog one morning a few weeks after Bucky got out of the infirmary. The dog instantly bonded to Bucky. They were inseparable.

            “There you go, Grant,” Steve cooed as he poured dog food into a bowl on the floor. He patted the dog’s head as he ate quickly. Sometimes the name embarrassed him. Bucky had insisted on naming him after Steve, not budging on the use of his middle name. He said it would be a reminder that Steve would always be there for him. That’s what persuaded Steve into agreeing. He wanted to do whatever it took to speed recovery and make Bucky the happiest he could be.

The bell on the elevator rang as Grant finished eating and Steve stood to greet Natasha. Clint followed behind her, a fresh bandage covering his nose.

            “Aw, coffee. Can I have some?” Clint asked with a goofy grin. He had a slight addiction.

            “Sure, let me pour you some,” Steve replied. He poured Clint a cup and handed it over. “Another sparring accident?” Steve asked, gesturing to the wound on his nose.

            “Yeah, went a little crazy,” Clint replied with a shrug as he glanced at Natasha.

            “What’d you need, Rogers?” she asked. She slid onto a bar stool and messed with a coaster on the counter.

            “It’s Bucky’s birthday. Of course he doesn’t remember, but I wanted to do something for him. Maybe a small party?” Steve explained, trying to hold in his excitement.

            “Can I pet your dog?” Clint interrupted impatiently. Steve chuckled and nodded as Clint fell to his knees and began playing with Grant. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes and affectionately watched her partner.

            “Yeah, we can do that. Nothing crazy, right?” she asked. Natasha was still warming up to Bucky. It took awhile for her to be all right with him in the Tower 24/7.

            “No, I don’t want to overwhelm him. I already have some presents, but I thought he’d appreciate everyone celebrating. He really does like you guys,” Steve replied, sipping his coffee. He raised his eyebrows as Clint rolled onto his back. Grant pounced the archer and took full advantage of the extra affection. Clint giggled as the dog licked his face. 

            “Just ignore him…” Natasha sighed with a loving smile. “I’ll spread the word if you want. Well, just to the team.”

            “You’re a life saver,” Steve replied.  

It took a lot of persuasion to get Clint off of the floor and out of Steve’s apartment. Steve made him a second cup of coffee as a bribe and said he could take Grant out to play later if he would leave. Clint happily got up then, taking the coffee without hesitation. Natasha dragged him out by the hand as she whispered something unheard in his ear that caused a laughing fit from the two of them. Steve watched them walk out, confused about whatever was said. He shrugged it off and went to his room to make sure all of Bucky’s presents were ready.

He wasn’t planning on giving them to him in front of everyone. Even though they all knew about their relationship, he wanted this part to be private. He wrapped the two books he got Bucky in thin tissue paper carefully. They weren’t books Bucky would have chosen, but they were two of Steve’s favorites from when they were young: _Gone With the Wind_ and _Of Mice and Men._ He wrote another letter to Bucky. Again, it replayed their lives together. Steve made sure to only talk about the good times they shared. He knew it made Bucky happy whenever they talked of the past, everything except the war.

            “I still can’t imagine you so small,” Bucky would say.

            “Yeah, but I still think it’s weird for me to look like this,” Steve would reply.

Steve smiled as he taped the envelope to the top of the books and stuck them back into his drawer. He dragged his hands over his face and made the bed. Somehow Bucky always managed to kick the sheets completely off of the mattress and steal the entire duvet. Steve chuckled as he straightened everything and checked the time. Bucky would be home soon.

Steve put all of Bucky’s things back on the nightstand where they belonged, momentarily glancing through his journal. Bucky had told him he could read it whenever he wanted since it was just for memories, but Steve felt like that was an invasion of privacy. Instead he just liked to only look at Bucky’s sloppy handwriting.

Then Steve saw something that worried him. He read the sentence over again. Bucky spoke about how much he hated Stark. Steve wasn’t sure if he was talking about Howard or Tony at first, but then he spoke about how Stark always teased him about his arm and about being with Steve. Steve knew he was only simply messing with him, but it hurt that Bucky kept this to himself. He closed the journal and put it in Bucky’s drawer, aware that Bucky’s hour session was almost over.

            “J.A.R.V.I.S?” Steve asked suddenly. “I have another favor.”

            “Yes, Captain Rogers?” the system replied instantly.

            “Is Tony busy?” There is a slight pause as the computer researched his question.

            “Not at the moment.” Steve pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, not bothering with shoes. He scribbled down a quick note on a slip of paper. _Going to run a quick errand. Be back soon. –Steve._ He made sure to put it somewhere Bucky would see right away and entered the elevator. Steve stood silently until it stopped on _one_ of Tony’s floors. J.A.R.V.I.S. notified the floor that there was a visitor.

            “In here! Wanna talk, then you gotta come to me!” Tony yelled from around the corner. Steve followed the voice, finding Tony crouched underneath one of his many computer systems. “Ow, Jesus fucking shit,” he cussed as he snapped his fingers away from a jumble of wires. Smoke flowed from the cut he made. He lifted his goggles off of his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Visiting me for once, huh? Did Mr. Winter get boring in bed?”

            “No, I need to talk,” Steve replied briskly. He crossed his arms and stood straight. “It’s about Bucky.”

            “What’d I do to hurt his feelings now?” Tony questioned as he plunged his hand into a toolbox.

            “I want you to stop teasing him. It’s interfering with his recovery.” Tony huffed and gave Steve a small smirk. “His arm is no different from the rest of him. And our relationship? That’s none of your business, Stark.” Steve rarely addressed the rest of his team by their last names. The only other man that didn’t was Tony and he acknowledged the change Steve made with a snarky grin.

            “Well, _Rogers._ If it’s not my business, move out of my Tower and back to Brooklyn,” he pestered. Steve glared at him, broadening his shoulders.

            “If I here anything else about you messing with him, you’ll regret it, Stark.” Steve turned around briskly and immediately left. He hoped whatever he said got through to him.

When Steve got back to their floor, Bucky was sitting on one of the armchairs. His legs were tucked underneath his body and he held a mug of coffee close to his chest as he went scribbled in his journal. Steve smiled, just watching him for a moment.

            “Hey, Buck,” he said. Bucky looked up and smiled back. He shut his journal and set it on the coffee table.

            “Hey.” Steve felt like Bucky almost inserted a nickname after his greeting.

            “How was therapy?” Bucky shrugged his right shoulder and got up to meet Steve by the elevator. 

            “It was normal. Nothing new.” Grant followed Bucky close behind him. “Where’d you go?" 

            “Went to have a talk with Tony,” Steve quietly replied.

            “Why?” Steve hesitated.

            “I saw your journal. Is he really being that bad?”

            “He’s just an ass. I’ll deal with it later.”

            “Already did, hopefully.” Bucky grinned softly. He extended his arms for a hug. Steve fell into the embrace without a thought. Bucky was warm and the muscles of his back felt nice against Steve’s arms. “Happy birthday,” Steve whispered with a smile. 

            “What?” Bucky looked up at him, confused. He furrowed his brow.

            “It’s your birthday today. March tenth.”

            “Oh, I didn’t know.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hands in his own, which Bucky still hesitantly flinched to. “You don’t have to do anything for me, you know?”

            “Too late,” Steve grinned. Bucky made a disapproving grunt and nuzzled his face into Steve’s chest.

Steve wanted to give Bucky his present right then, but instead he just brought Bucky to the couch. The sat down quite close to each other and spent the day watching movies and TV shows. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. The smaller man tensed up at the action, but eventually he cuddled into Steve’s side appreciatively.

            “Did you get me a present?” Bucky muttered after a couple of movies.

            “A few,” Steve replied, fighting a smile. 

            “Okay…”

An hour later, J.A.R.V.I.S. announced several visitors and Bucky got up with a puzzled look. Natasha and Clint entered the floor behind Bruce and Tony. Bruce carried what Steve assumed was a cake and set it on the bar counter. Steve greeted all of them with warm smiles, maybe not as nice to Tony though, as Bucky stood behind them awkwardly. He messed with the rim of his t-shirt and watched. Steve turned around and noticed him.

            “Buck, what’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing his shoulders.

            “Why are they all here?”

            “Because we wanted to have a little party for you.”

Sam came out of the elevator a moment later. Steve said hello politely and excused himself to pull Bucky into the hallway. Tony made some snarky remark about what they were going to do all alone like that, causing a blush from the two of them.

Steve stood in front of Bucky as he leaned against a wall. “Are you okay?” he whispered. Bucky shrugged his shoulder with a grunt.

            “I was just fine with being alone with you…” he muttered. Steve sighed and crossed his arms. 

            “They’re here for you, Buck. I didn’t force them to.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

            “None of them trust me.”

            “Buck, they’re all going to be a little hesitant around you for awhile, you know that. But all of them are accepting you into the group. Even Natasha."

            “Natalia scares me…” Bucky mumbled. Steve gave him a soft smile. 

            “ _Natalia_ scares everyone, but Natasha is a friend.” Steve pulled Bucky into a tight hug and inhaled deeply. “It’s going to be fine. Just have some fun, okay?” Bucky nodded. Steve kissed him quickly and led them back into the main room. Sam patted Bucky’s shoulder as he started a conversation. Steve gave him an “I told you so” look and distracted himself with food and drinks. Natasha slipped onto Clint’s lap on a bar stool and whispered something into his ear. The relationship between them was weird. Steve had never seen them kiss in public, but he assumed they were close. Maybe it was just more of a brother-sister thing.

            “Where’s the Asgardian?” Tony asked as he poured several glasses of champagne.

            “He’s visiting that girl, Jane right?” Natasha explained as Clint poked at her sides in agreement. Tony shrugged a shoulder and passed out the glasses, spilling some of the bubbly liquid onto the floor.

            “To Bucky,” Sam began as he raised his glass. Everyone chimed in.

            “To Bucky!” they repeated, except for Natasha who said James with a small smile. Bucky smiled softly in return to everyone as he gingerly sipped his champagne. Steve bumped his arm playfully and laughed at a random joke someone said through drinks of champagne. Bucky silently stood to the side and halfheartedly laughed. 

            “Steve?” he asked, tapping the blond’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” Bucky set his glass on a counter and excused himself from the room. He slipped into a bathroom and locked the door.

He looked tired in the mirror, but he had to admit- his eyes didn’t look so empty anymore. Bucky ran his fingers along the spot where his red star used to be. It was clean and unscratched, replaced with a blue star surrounded by a white circle. It reminded him of Steve. Well, that’s was it was supposed to do. They were a team with the same logo now. Bucky smiled as he ran some water and splashed it on his face quickly. He turned off the light and left the small room.

            “Hey, soldier,” Natasha greeted. She was leaning against the wall, blocking Bucky’s path.

            “Um… hey.” Natasha took a moment to examine her nails.

            “How are you feeling?” Bucky moved his mouth to answer, but Natasha interrupted him with a raise of her hand. “That doesn’t matter.” Natasha moved to stand up straight. “Do you remember anything… about us?” Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion. He was starting to remember a lot, but not much from his Hydra days.

            “I… not really,” he answered as he raked his fingers through his hair.

            “Do you remember sleeping with me? Do you remember going through this same _shit_ with me? Huh?” There was pain in her eyes, mistrust. “No you don’t. Because that obviously meant nothing to you.”

            “Natalia, I…”

            “But you remember my name, that’s all?” Bucky inaudibly sighed. He didn’t know what to say. “You almost _killed_ me. After begin my lover for so long you changed like that.” She accompanied the last words with a quiet snap of her fingers. “There’s no taking that back. You can stay, but only because Steve is one of my best friends. If you touch him wrong at all, you’re gone. Do you understand?”

            “Yes.” Bucky swallowed a dry lump in his throat as she turned and left with a sway of her hips. Bucky returned to the hall minutes later. Steve could see something wrong happened.

            “You okay?” he asked in a low whisper. 

            “Yeah… fine,” Bucky replied. Sam and Clint pulled Steve away to start a game Bucky didn’t really know how to play, so he watched form the sidelines. He avoided Natasha’s short glances from across the room and smiled at Steve’s.

** 

The night went by in a blur. Bucky slowly had joined the party with sly remarks to jokes and half drunken giggles into Steve’s shoulder. He had finished off the bottle of champagne himself, and Steve discovered he had a low tolerance for alcohol… despite his knock off supersoldier serum.

Presents were given to Bucky throughout the night, although they weren’t serious “we love you” presents. Tony gave Bucky a coupon for a free haircut, which Bucky snorted at as he said he’d be sure to use it. Clint and Natasha gave him their blessing to sleep with Steve and refilled Bucky’s glass throughout the night. Steve blushed wildly and nearly snorted his drink as Clint described what Bucky was allowed to do in great detail. He didn’t stop thinking about what could happen in bed for the rest of the night.

Everyone was eventually pulled into a game of truth or dare led by Tony himself. Steve repeatedly chose truth, worried about being dared to do some sexual act with a fruit. Natasha and Clint eventually disappeared into a closet to complete a dare for seven minutes in heaven.

            “So, my turn right?” Tony asked as he lounged on the couch. Steve nodded and sipped his glass of scotch slowly. “Bucky, truth or dare?” Steve could see how much Bucky hated Tony. Bucky shifted in his spot before choosing truth. He didn’t want to do anything with Steve out in the open, which he knew Tony would request. “Alright…” Tony made a show of thinking of a question to ask. “Have you ever blown Steve in public?”

Bucky glared at Tony. Steve could see his jaw clench along with his fists.

            “Fuck you, Tony,” he muttered. His knuckles turned white

            “Oh come on, buddy. Who could keep their hands off of him? Just look at him!” Tony argued, gesturing at Steve.

            “Shut the hell up. I swear to God…”

            “We all know you’ve wanted to _fuck_ him.” No, they have never fucked. Never slept together. Never _made love._

Bucky stood up briskly and stormed out of the room. Steve flinched at the sound of their bedroom door slamming. He stood; ready to follow the other man.

            “You crossed a line, Stark,” Steve threatened. He left the room. “Buck, can I come in?” Steve heard a small noise of agreement from inside of the room. He stepped inside and closed the door gently behind him. “Buck, I’m sorry…”

            “It’s not your fault,” Bucky mumbled, voice smothered by the pillow he had his face hidden in.

            “I can ask them to leave… if you want,” Steve suggested.

            “No, they can leave on their own.” He glanced at Steve momentarily. “Stay here.” Steve pulled himself close to Bucky on the bed. He didn’t touch him yet.

Steve had wanted to be more with Bucky for a while. He had plenty of fantasies about it. He had even, to his embarrassment, jerked off in the shower occasionally. But Steve didn’t want to rush it. He didn’t know what Bucky wanted. 

Bucky sighed loudly into the sheets. He rolled onto his side and looked into Steve’s eyes.

            “Do you want your presents?” Steve asked. Bucky smiled and nodded. Steve retrieved the package and handed it to Bucky. The other man smiled and laughed quietly as he read the letter. He folded it up carefully when he was done and began to unwrap the books. “You… might not like them.”

            “I like anything you get me.” Bucky examined the covers of the books. “I remember these ones. You always had a copy of them.”

            “Yeah I did." 

            “Thanks, Steve,” Bucky whispered. He fell into Steve’s arms and hugged him tightly. Steve could feel him breathing against his skin. “Have you ever wanted to?” he asked quietly. “Like… you know…” 

            “Yeah.” Steve never lied to Bucky. He was thankful for the lack of light in their bedroom as his cheeks turned bright red.

            “Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut will follow. And possibly the end of the story.


	7. heartbeats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the brief hiatus this went on. I just wanted the last chapter to be perfect.  
> Enjoy :)

Steve was the one to tell everybody to leave. Bucky was the one to disable the elevator doors to their floor. J.A.R.V.I.S. complained, but they told him that they needed _privacy._ The computer system agreed to not tell anyone and to keep people out for the entire night, but Bucky was still suspicious of the accented computer system. Steve began to clean up the party’s mess. He took his time, nervous about what came after he was done. Bucky busied himself somewhere out Steve’s view. 

He anxiously paced up and down the hallway that led to several bedrooms. His fingers twisted throughout his hair as he silently stepped. Bucky wasn’t sure what to do. Well he did _know_ , but he didn’t _know_ what Steve liked. He didn’t know where Steve liked to be touched and squeezed and bit because they’ve never gone this far. It was nerve-racking.

Bucky stopped his pacing, convincing himself that he was being stupid and everything would work out perfectly, it would right? But what if he screwed up? What if he was a little too rough and Steve got angry with him?

Steve stood in the middle of the floor. He watched Bucky lock doors and close curtains. His heart raced inside of his ribcage. It was uncomfortable standing there waiting. He could tell Bucky was nervous from the way his brow knotted in the middle. Bucky looked up. Their eyes connected for a moment before they both embarrassedly looked away. A small smile tugged at Steve’s lips as he again distracted himself with the messy coffee table.

The entire apartment slowly returned to normal as Steve did most of the actual cleaning. Bucky glanced up again, unable to keep his eyes away from Steve. He watched as Steve bent over to pick up something from the floor. Heat flowed all too quickly. He bit his lip as he stared at Steve’s ass.

Steve caught him staring with a flustered smile. He warily raked his fingers through his hair as they just stared at each other for a minute. Bucky seemed to be memorizing him. His eyes flicked across Steve’s body, tracing every detail.

Bucky walked towards Steve in what seemed like a blur of quick motions. His hands found their way to Steve’s cheeks and jawline in a matter of seconds. They were pulled close. Bucky took a moment to look into Steve’s eyes before breaking all space between them. His lips were fast and heavy against Steve’s own.

Steve gasped out loud as Bucky’s tongue softly brushed across his lips. Steve felt completely sloppy against Bucky’s perfectly timed movements. He didn’t know where to put his hands, didn’t know if he should open his mouth or not.

He grunted into Bucky’s mouth as his back slammed into a wall. He bounced forward and stepped on Bucky’s foot, receiving a weird noise from him.

            “Sorry,” Steve mumbled.

            “Shut up,” Bucky mumbled back. Their hips ground together in the middle. Bucky broke the kiss with a groan as the friction on his erection increased. “Fuck.” He could feel Steve’s cock against his own. He could feel the way it twitched when they rubbed together. Bucky gained some confidence and he slid his hands down Steve’s back, sticking them into the back pockets of his jeans and squeezing his ass.

Steve whined. He _whined,_ mouth hanging wide open. His eyebrows were knotted together. Bucky squeezed again. He could feel how muscular he was, even through Steve’s jeans. Bucky bit his lip and dragged his tongue over his teeth. Steve watched him do it, panting and neck bared. Bucky saw how his jugular pulsed underneath his skin.

He latched his mouth onto Steve’s neck. Steve tasted of salt and smelled like sweat. He inhaled the scent like his life depended on it. Bucky pinned Steve to the wall as he sucked on his jugular. His hips moved slowly. He growled as Steve thrust back against him.

Steve’s hands were on Bucky’s waist. He held on tightly, barely able to stand. He moaned into Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky grazed his teeth against his neck. He could feel a bruise forming on his skin and wanted more.

Bucky released himself from Steve’s skin with a soft popping sound. He blew on the wet spot softly, watching goose bumps sprinkle his skin. He found his hands slipping up Steve’s chest. His eyes connected with Steve’s as he fumbled with the first button of his shirt. Steve pushed Bucky’s fingers away. He began to unbutton his shirt. Bucky groaned when Steve was wearing a white tank top underneath it. He wanted it all off, now.

Steve unbuttoned his shirt way too slowly. It seemed to take him _ages_ to finish. Bucky tore it from his shoulders once it was done. It fell to the floor, somewhere near their ankles.

            “Now you?” Steve asked quietly. His cheeks were flushed. Bucky smirked as he slowly, tantalizingly hooked his fingers under the rim of his t-shirt. He tugged it up, straining the fabric. Steve’s eyes were anchored to how the muscles of Bucky’s abdomen and chest stretched and pulled against his skin.

            “Anything for you.” Steve snorted at the look Bucky was giving him. “What?”

            “Never mind. It was just a little cheesy,” Steve said as he held back a laugh. Bucky rolled his eyes and gave Steve a minute to stare at him. And Steve did because he had to admit- Bucky had the most perfect body he had ever seen.

Bucky’s arms were around his waist in seconds. He pulled Steve against him and nearly cried out as their hips came together again. He dragged Steve away from the wall and down the hallway. They bumped into an end table, sending the lamp that sat on it crashing to the floor. Bucky chuckled into Steve’s mouth and told Steve to shut up when he tried to clean up the mess. 

Bucky didn’t know where they were headed, but he hoped it was a room with a bed. Steve kissed him roughly, trying to be as close as possible. Bucky wrapped his fingers around Steve’s tank top and pushed him through a door. Steve stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed with a thump. He grunted as Bucky straddled his hips.

            “Just take off your goddamned shirt already,” Bucky purred into Steve’s mouth. His metal fingers strayed incredibly close to Steve’s crotch, teasing the strip of skin that was exposed by the waistband of his jeans. Steve obeyed and shoved Bucky up so he had access to his shirt. He pulled it over his head; only to get it tangled around one of his wrists. Bucky chuckled and smiled as Steve struggled with the shirt covering his face. “Need some help there?”

            “No, I got it,” Steve grunted.

            “Just lemme…” Bucky tugged at one of the sleeves and pulled it off of Steve’s head. He tossed the stretched out tank top onto the floor with another quiet laugh. Steve glared at him. “Not my fault you’re to big to take a shirt off properly.”

            “Not my fault you’re…” Bucky kissed him again, interrupting whatever smart ass comment he was trying to say. He smiled against Steve’s lips and licked into his mouth. Steve’s jaw dropped down and Bucky took the chance to slip his tongue between Steve’s pink lips. He smirked as Steve moaned into the kiss.

Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulders as he kissed a trail down his jawline and neck. He felt Bucky’s warm breath tickle his skin as he attempted to increase the friction between them. He wanted his pants off, his underwear. “Buck… I…” Bucky’s lips latched onto one of Steve’s hardened nipples. He bit down on his lip to quiet whatever noises were working their way out of his throat. “The pants,” he managed to whine.

            “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute,” Bucky breathed. His tongue teased at Steve’s nipples as he fumbled with Steve’s belt buckle. Steve listened to the metal clink against Bucky’s own fingers, and he lifted his hips to tug his pants off. Bucky pulled the jeans off over Steve’s feet and backed away from the bed.

            “What are you…?” Bucky fluidly removed his belt and shoved his pants off of his hips. Steve swallowed hard, throat dry from the sight in front of him. He managed to pull his boxers off and kick them away as Bucky did so himself. He couldn’t keep himself from staring and neither could Bucky.

Sure, Bucky had seen Steve naked before, countless times in fact, but never in a situation like this. He’d never seen Steve naked and sweaty, cock pink and straining for some type of touch. He’d never wanted so badly to suck someone off before.

Bucky’s cock twitched as those thoughts and images raced through his head. He tapped his knee against the bottom of Steve’s foot, signaling to spread his legs. Steve did so with some hesitance. His heart pounded, and he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his throat.

Bucky settled himself between Steve’s legs. His hands rested on Steve’s thighs, fingertips slightly digging into his skin. Steve thought that the metal felt nice. He wanted Bucky to use that hand on him, but Bucky had other ideas. Steve whined, back arching off of the bed as Bucky gently gripped his cock.

He didn’t move for a second. Steve wiggled his hips slightly and furrowed his brow. His throat seemed to close as Bucky fingers lightly brushed the head and slit. “God, Bucky… Just…”

Bucky pumped him swiftly and took Steve completely by surprise. Steve keened underneath him, soft groans spilling from his lips. He fisted the sheets and tried to increase the speed. Bucky moved incredibly slowly. He squeezed tightly every time his hand reached the head of Steve’s cock. His thumb brushed the tip along with it.

Bucky sat on his knees, ass in the air and mouth close to touching Steve’s cock. He breathed out heavily as he slicked Steve’s skin with precome. Bucky opened his mouth, aiming to wrap his lips around the head, but Steve stopped him. “Buck, no. It’s…”

            “Don’t you dare say it’s degrading,” Bucky snapped. His eyes met Steve’s. They were sharp and convincing. Steve dropped his head back down on the pillow and held his breath. He bit down on his lip. “I’m gonna suck your cock now.” Steve could have came right then and there.

Bucky licked the slit of Steve’s cock with little warning. His breath was hot and his tongue was rough against him. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. His tongue felt swollen once Bucky got his lips around him. He fought the urge to thrust his hips upwards. Chocking Bucky was the last thing he wanted to do tonight.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from shaking. He was on fire _everywhere._ Bucky’s mouth felt amazing against him.

Bucky didn’t have much experience with sucking cocks, but he thought it came pretty damn naturally now. He liked it, he had to admit. The weight on his tongue was heavy and thick and the taste was intoxicating. He didn’t waste anything. Bucky wanted to swallow him whole, and he would if he could. For now, his right hand covered the small space his lips couldn’t reach. He squeezed tightly there and swirled his tongue around the thick vein that traveled up Steve’s length.

His metal hand strayed against Steve’s thigh, barely touching him anywhere else. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could control his strength if he used it. But then Steve’s hands were looking for something to hold. Steve’s fingers tangled into Bucky’s hair hesitantly at first, but Bucky leaned into the touch and Steve pulled tighter. Bucky grunted at the tug against his scalp. His metal fingers allowed Steve to grip them. He could feel gears whirring inside of his arm as they adjusted to the pressure being put onto his hand. The metal clicked as it strengthened its stability.

Bucky attempted to move his mouth further down Steve’s cock. He paused as he began to feel the light dusting of hair at the base of Steve’s cock brush his nose. He held his position, humming against Steve’s throbbing erection as his hair was pulled roughly. Bucky swallowed around his thick member, and he knew Steve felt it when his hips rocked into his mouth.

Steve was moaning. It was louder than he had ever heard him moan. But still, Bucky swiftly pulled off of Steve’s cock with a wetly obscene “pop”. Steve whined when the sensation disappeared. He rolled his hips, wanting more, but Bucky ignored him.

            “What the hell…?” Steve’s eyes finally opened to see Bucky sucking on two of his _metal_ fingers.

            “I’m trying something, okay?” Steve stared at him, utterly confused. “I’m assuming we’re gonna go… farther right? And that you don’t necessarily know how to…” Steve blushed furiously. He looked away, embarrassed by how his cock twitched simply by hearing Bucky’s voice. “Just let me do it.”

             “Okay,” Steve mumbled. His head plopped back against the pillows again as Bucky settled between his legs. He held his breath, waiting to be touched. Bucky groaned, and it was guttural and loud. Steve lifted his head only slightly.

Bucky jerked himself off roughly. His hand was moving all too quickly as he pleasured himself. Steve felt like he was blushing all over as he watched. It was incredibly sexy, something Steve had only fantasized about seeing. Bucky paused, realizing Steve was watching. He didn’t let go of his cock as he leaned in close to Steve’s crotch. He sucked on his metal fingers again, not even bothering to ask for lube.

            “Roll over,” Bucky muttered. Steve hesitated before complying, settling on his knees and forearms. Bucky pushed Steve’s legs farther apart as stared at Steve’s perfectly round ass. He placed small kisses onto the cleft. His right hand squeezed one of the cheeks, receiving a grunt from the blond.

Bucky’s mouth inched closer to the tight ring of muscles between Steve’s cheeks. His right fingers spread him open before he gently licked the area.

            “Jesus, Buck…” Bucky hummed in response and continued to use his tongue, lacking any lube. He pushed against the muscles and eased him open. He gripped his cock with his right hand, again sucking on his fingers. Bucky didn’t want to cause too much pain for Steve.

He circled his left fingers around Steve’s ass and watched Steve’s back quiver and shake. He smiled when Steve gripped his own cock; timing the movements of Steve’s hand with the moment he pushed the tip of his fingers into him.

Steve cried out and muffled his moans against a pillow. He bit down into the fabric as Bucky went deeper even though he knew nobody would hear them.

Bucky shoved another finger into Steve, using his tongue to make it easier. He curved them upward and scissored them apart to open Steve up as much as possible. He stroked himself as he did so, completely in a daze by how amazing it felt to be inside of Steve. He almost took away his fingers and shoved his cock into Steve right then and there, but he didn’t. He was incredibly close to coming from just watching Steve tremble and sweat. He eased one last finger into Steve and waited for a response.

Steve rolled his hips and pushed against the sensation between his legs. He got Bucky moving again, gasping at the burn he felt with the third finger. The metal was cold inside of him as Bucky curved his fingers. He finally hit Steve’s prostate and they both knew it. Steve nearly collapsed onto the sheets, knees shaking. Steve’s brows knotted together and he cussed silently into the pillows. He obscenely moaned as Bucky repeated the movements of his fingers. Bucky groaned as he touched himself. He was unable to contain it anymore.

Bucky came onto the sheets, biting down on Steve’s ass roughly. He was temporarily blinded by his bone-shaking orgasm, nuzzling his face into one of the cheeks of Steve’s ass. He panted and heaved as he tried to regain proper brain function. His fingers paused, still deep inside of Steve’s ass. Steve whined at the loss of movement and rolled his hips again. Bucky cussed. He wasn’t counting on coming first.

            “Fuck! God damnit. Sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky breathed heavily. He couldn’t bear to move, his come still sticky all over his hand. “Shit, Steve. I’m sorry.” Steve tried to regain the friction Bucky had going, grinding his hips upwards. “You just looked so damn hot like that…” Bucky puffed. Steve whined, unable to reenact Bucky’s pleasuring. “Shit…”

            “Just keep touching me…” Steve complained, eyes still squeezed shut.

Bucky looked up. He attempted to smirk at Steve’s request and make some snarky comment, but nothing happened. He just pushed Steve onto his back and latched onto Steve’s cock with no warning. His fingers pumped in and out of Steve’s ass as Bucky sucked hard on his cock. He teased his tongue against the bundle of nerves just below the head and grazed his teeth along the slit. Steve cussed, receiving a hum of approval from Bucky. He dug his fingers far into Steve and curved them one final time as he sucked. Hard. “Aw, Buck… I’m gonna…”

Steve orgasmed into Bucky’s waiting mouth. His back arched and his hips jerked upwards as he fireworks shot off behind his eyelids. High-pitched noises chocked up in his throat as he gripped Bucky’s dark hair tightly. It was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced and he was suddenly hyper aware of all of his surroundings: Bucky’s fingers inside of him, his mouth still sucking on the head of his softening cock. How hot the room suddenly was. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding and tried to slow his heartbeat. 

Bucky removed his mouth from Steve’s cock. He wiped the remains of Steve’s come from his lips and swallowed what was left. His fingers slipped out of Steve. Steve felt empty now, whining from the sudden loss of that sensation. Bucky plopped onto his back beside him and contentedly sighed. “Holy… shit,” Steve breathed. Bucky chuckled at the sound of a swear word on his lips.

            “I wasn’t counting on… cutting this off early,” Bucky apologized. He stared at the ceiling, heart still racing inside of his chest.

            “That was still the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced,” Steve assured him. Bucky nuzzled into his side and inhaled the smell of sex in the air. He liked it, especially because he knew it was Steve.

            “Still, I…”

            “Just shut up already, Buck. That was perfect.” And Bucky did. He draped his left arm over Steve’s chest. For a moment, he could have sworn he felt Steve’s heartbeat, but he knew he couldn’t possibly feel it through the metal.

He imagined them sharing the same heartbeat, imagined this happening _before._

Bucky pressed himself against Steve’s side. Their legs tangled together underneath the sheet Steve draped over them. Bucky breathed silently as he waited for Steve to fall asleep, cheek nuzzled on Steve’s shoulder. He inhaled the scent that lingered on the blond’s skin.

Steve’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. Bucky could hear a small snore rumble in his chest. He closed his eyes, for once going to sleep at the same time Steve did. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn’t, but Bucky felt safe then. Safer than he had ever felt at night.

** 

Steve woke up the next morning alone. He stretched his arm over Bucky’s side of the bed, still feeling warmth left over from him. There was a knot in his shoulder from falling asleep with Bucky on top of it. He rotated it as he sat up in bed. Dry come from the night before tugged uncomfortably on his stomach. Steve replayed the night’s event in his head with a stupid grin on his face. He made a mental note to wash the sheets sometime today.

As Steve pulled on last night’s boxers, Bucky stormed into the bedroom. An extravagant bouquet of flowers was clutched in his metal hand. Petals fell onto the floor.

            “What the fuck is this, Steve?” he inquired, tossing- more like hurling- the flowers onto Steve’s lap. Steve looked at the flowers, completely lost.

            “Uh… I don’t…”

            “They’re from fucking, Stark.” Steve was about to read the note, but Bucky got there first. “It says some _bullshit_ about you being his fuck-buddy or some shit like that.” Steve knew Tony wouldn’t say something like that, well he did, but it was going a bit far. “And apparently he found out about us last night and spread it everywhere. You know about that?” No, Steve didn’t. He just woke up for crying out loud.

            “Well, maybe they got sent to the wrong floor. I…”

            “It’s addressed to _you,_ Steve,” Bucky interrupted.

            “I don’t know why he would send this,” Steve admitted. He set the flowers on the bed and stood up. Bucky put up a hand to stop him.

            “Has anything happened between you two?”

            “Buck, I…" 

            “ _Has anything happened between you two_?” he repeated. Steve dropped his hands, defeated. 

            “No, nothing has happened. I swear to God, Buck,” he pleaded.

            “I don’t believe you, Steve!”

            “You know I would never. You know how Tony is, Buck. He does stuff like this all of the time!” Bucky crossed his arms. He looked away from Steve, eyes somewhat red.

            “Yeah, well you two had a lot of time together before I came back,” Bucky muttered.

            “Are you seriously saying that…?”

            “I don’t know what to say!” Bucky yelled. “I don’t know what happened with you and Stark, and I don’t care if it was before me. But…” he paused, hand in his hair. “But I’m worried that this isn’t as real as I thought.” The way he said “real” caused knots to tangle in Steve’s stomach. Bucky pushed past him and disappeared into the closet. Steve didn’t follow. He stood by the bed staring at the same spot Bucky’s face was a moment ago. “Don’t wait up,” Bucky muttered before he suddenly stomped out of the room.

Steve plopped back onto the bed. He hung his head in his hands before throwing the flowers against the wall. His chest was on fire and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He heaved uncontrollably, eyes stinging from salty tears that didn’t fall down his cheeks.

            “Fuck,” Steve mumbled, not even regretting the swear on his tongue. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and glared at the doorway. “ _Fucking_ , Stark.”

** 

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets as he left the Tower. He escaped from any questioning security and slipped out of one of the back doors. He pulled his sleeve down over his left arm, something he hadn’t done in a few weeks. He shoved past the strangers on the sidewalk and eventually came to a musty bar no one would look.

He silently slid onto a barstool and hunched his shoulders, ordering something cheap from the bartender behind the counter. He downed several shots of vodka quickly. The burn in his throat became numb after the third or fourth one. The bartender noticed how rapidly he drank and left the bottle on the counter for him to pour himself.

She watched him curiously, and Bucky noticed. He brushed off her smiles, maybe at some point spilling that he fucked _dudes_. Her face was increasingly red after that as she busied herself with the other patron across the bar.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his stool, noticing the watchful stare of the man a few stools down. He tossed a twenty dollar bill on the counter and slipped into the bathroom.

It was small, only two stalls. Bucky took a piss and washed his hands. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He wondered if it was obvious he had recently had sex, regretting not combing his hair at all. He splashed cold water on his face and listened carefully as the door opened and shut behind him.

            “You looking for a little fun?” someone asked. Bucky turned around, his face still wet with water. He lifted his shirt to dry it off.

            “What kind?” Bucky sharply replied.

            “There’s a club, open right now. I can get you in for free.” The man dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with white powder. Bucky knew what it was. “And give this for a small price if you go. 

            “Sorry, man. I’ve been clean for a few months.” Bucky lifted his hands apologetically.

            “What about these?” The man revealed another bag. Bucky swallowed hard at the sight. There were two white pills with little red hearts on them inside of it. He hadn’t had those in a year at least.

            “How much?”

            “No cash, something else.” The man shoved both bags into his pocket and began undoing his belt.

            “You want me to blow you?” Bucky asked, a little offended, but also not surprised.

            “Well, yeah, if you want the pills. Cash if you want coke.” This guy knew what he was doing. Bucky thought about Steve, but he also thought about how fucking much he loved Ecstasy.

Bucky dropped to his knees. He tugged the man’s pants down only past his hips as the door locked behind them. He wasn’t as big as Steve, not even close. Bucky gripped the base of his cock and stroked heavily. He didn’t waste any time, latching onto the head immediately. He was sloppy on purpose and didn't do as well as he could have. 

The man came on Bucky’s face without any decency. He nodded as he leaned against the wall, retrieving one pill from the bag. It stuck to his finger as he held it out for Bucky to take. Bucky stuck out his tongue and the man placed it in his mouth. He swallowed it, going to the sink to clean his face off.

No one tasted as good as Steve had.

** 

The club was hot and heavy. The man disappeared with a man and a woman at his sides. Bucky slinked through the crowd, lust in his eyes. He grinded against all genders. His mouth went everywhere. Steve was gone from his mind. He wasn’t even hard from being touched.

Girls hung on his biceps. Men explored his neck, left their marks. He wasn’t wasted by anyone, but his pants never came off.

Lights flashed and music pounded inside of his skull. He was confident, a little too much maybe. It felt like he was standing still and everything spun around him. Tongues of countless people pushed against their cheeks as they gestured for a blowjob, but he turned them all down. Something that told his to leave kept swirling inside of his skull. 

Sharpies were being used on his left arm, but he knew they would come off of this type of metal. Bucky danced in the center of the floor, letting people come to him.

Someone stuck a cold hand down his pants and he swung a metal fist, colliding with what must have been flesh. A girl screamed in response and pushed him away. Did he hit a girl? He didn’t think he did. Heavy hands grabbed at his arms and he thought _Steve_ for a moment, but no. It wasn’t Steve. It was a large man in black who threw him outside and onto the street.

Bucky squinted at what he thought was sunlight, but only streetlights were beaming. He checked his watch.

            “Fucking shit,” he slurred. He didn’t feel drunk. He didn’t even recall drinking anything inside of the club. “Fuck.” Bucky stumbled to his feet and examined his location. He could see Stark Tower over the other buildings, so he walked towards it, careful to look sober.

Bucky ended up in an elevator that he hoped led to his floor. And it did, but it took a moment to recognize the place.

            “Bucky, can we talk?” Steve asked when he saw him in the hall. Bucky paused, brow furrowed.

            “About what?” His voice was slurred and he was pretty sure his pupils were blown still blown. His right hand quivered slightly, which he his in the pocket of his jeans.

            “You’re high aren’t you?” Steve prodded. He stepped closer to Bucky. “God damnit Bucky, you’re kidding.”

            “I don’t think so?” Bucky slumped against a wall. “Shit.”

            “Yeah, shit. You screwed up.” Steve sighed heavily. “You were clean!” They were silent for a moment, not looking at each other. “We need to talk about this morning.”

All of those memories suddenly bubbled up into Bucky’s train of thought. He was suddenly angry again, brow furrowing.

            “I have nothing to say to you about that. It’s your call.”

            “My call? You accused me of doing God knows what with Stark, and it’s _my_ call?” Bucky exhaled into his hand and rubbed his neck, forgetting about the hickeys that littered his skin. Steve chocked on whatever he was going to say next. He stepped back. “Buck, what did you do?”

            “What do you mean, Steve?” Their voices were rising in volume. 

            “You have hickeys all over you, Bucky!”

            “That’s not my fault! I was _high._ Remember?” Bucky yelled. “I didn’t fuck anyone if that’s what you’re asking.” Steve stood still. He dragged his hands over his face. “Oh but I did suck someone off if that makes a difference.”

            “And you wonder if this is real. _You_.” Steve turned on his heel and walked away before he lost his temper. He heard Bucky following him.

            “Wouldn’t you do the same? If you found out the man you _love_ could have been fucking someone this whole time? Wouldn’t you…”

            “No! I wouldn’t! What makes you think I’d do something like that? I would never, _never_ do something to worsen the situation!” Steve argued. He faced Bucky again now, shoulders broad but face pleading. Bucky had never said he loved Steve back before. “I would never do something like that behind your back.”

            “Oh, so because you’re fucking Captain America you wouldn’t fuck another man? It automatically makes you a perfect, honest, _loyal_ man?” Bucky yelled.

             “No. It doesn’t. I’m not perfect, Buck. I’m not. And I…”

            “Well neither am I! I will never be perfect! I can’t be fucking trusted to be something I’m not!” Steve’s eyes were vivid, bright blue and earnest. “So I sucked someone off for Ecstasy. So I let guys touch me. So what, Steve. But you know what? You didn’t come to mind _once_ the whole day.”

            “Are you being honest, Buck?”

            “No shit. Yeah, I am.”

            “I did think this was real. I thought there was something here. I…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he lost his words.

            “Yeah, well so did I, Steve.” Bucky took a step forward. “I figured out that I’ve been in love with you since the fucking 30’s and now… Now I don’t know.” 

            “Yeah, well let me show you then,” Steve muttered. Bucky didn’t have a chance to say anything back. Steve’s hands were on his face in a second. He closed the space between them and kissed Bucky’s lips, rough and forceful. “You have no idea what love is if you can’t see what I feel for you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips. “I never even thought of sleeping with Stark. I never wanted anyone besides you.”

Bucky was frozen against Steve’s body. His muscles tensed under his skin as he waited for Steve to say more. He swallowed up those whispers like he lived off of them. “You’re everything to me, Buck. You’re everything.” He could tell Steve was still angry, could hear it in his voice.

Bucky raised his hands and fisted the fabric of Steve’s shirt in his fingers. He kissed back. His face was somehow still worked up into a glare and he angrily began moving them toward the bedroom. Steve held them together, not pausing the kiss they shared. It was hard and heavy. Bucky could feel his lips begin to swell from the strength of it.

They fell through the doorway and onto the bed in a heap. Steve grunted underneath him, grinding his hips roughly upwards. Bucky gasped and rolled his hips in reply as he worried his bottom lip. 

Steve began to undo Bucky’s belt buckle.

            “W-wait,” Bucky stuttered, gripping Steve’s wrist. He glared at the weakness of his voice. “I…”

            “Bucky, I trust you,” Steve interrupted.

            “But what if I hurt you?” Steve sat up and held Bucky on his lap. 

            “Buck, it’s me. You’ll never hurt me.” Bucky looked down. He rested his forehead on Steve’s. “I trust you with me. I do.” Steve slid his hands halfway up the back of Bucky’s shirt.

            “I… I can’t. I don’t trust _myself,_ ” Bucky admitted. He shook his head, fighting against the feeling of Steve’s skin on his own. He placed his hands on Steve’s chest and pushed him back. “I don’t want to.” 

            “But I do,” Steve muttered. Bucky stared at him. He eyes pierced through the darkness. “I want you, Buck.”

            “I… want you too, Steve. But…” He swallowed hard, trying to alleviate the lump in his throat.

            “Just let me show you.” Steve raised his eyebrows benevolently. “Okay?”

            “Okay,” Bucky agreed. He let Steve flip their positions and laid on his back, legs slightly open. Steve straddled his hips as they tugged their shirts off. Bucky stayed perfectly still, hands on Steve’s waist.

            “Can I?” Steve asked as he pulled at Bucky’s belt again. Bucky nodded and watched him carefully. Steve settled between Bucky’s legs after he removed Bucky’s pants and underwear. His eyes met Bucky’s as his hand went to grip his member. 

Bucky wasn’t quite hard yet, nervous from what Steve was planning. He was having trouble getting turned on under pressure. A chocked noise built up in his throat as Steve stroked him. He fisted the sheets and arched his back, slowly getting hard under Steve’s fingers.

Steve palmed himself through his jeans. He exhaled heavily over the tip of Bucky’s cock and ran his thumb over the drop of precome forming there. Bucky shivered under him. Steve grunted as he grasped his cock roughly. 

            “What about… y-your pants?” Bucky quivered. Steve nodded in agreement and stood to quickly shed his pants and boxers. His erection achingly curved upwards towards his stomach as he returned to the bed. Bucky slammed his head back against the pillow, cock painfully twitching at the sight of Steve. He groaned when Steve’s hands were on him again.

Bucky wasn’t quiet. Not at all. Even though he was more nervous than he had been in years, he moaned at the top of his lungs. His breathing was chocked and ragged as he did so, chest heaving up and down. He was completely unaware of Steve touching himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened to the sound of skin on skin. It was wet now, replaced by Steve’s warm lips. 

Steve licked Bucky’s entire member, paying close attention to his balls. He sucked heavily and allowed the explicit noises to rise in volume. He enjoyed how Bucky squirmed under him. He had wanted to be the one causing his pleasure the entire time. Steve splayed one of his hands on Bucky’s abs, momentarily forgetting about his own hard-on. He sucked once more of the head of Bucky’s cock and tasted every drop of come that leaked out of him before pulling away.

Steve settled himself on his knees again. His hands rested on Bucky’s thighs. 

            “What now, Buck?” he asked, completely serious. As much he wanted Bucky to order him around, he wasn’t sure what the next step was. Well, he did, but he didn’t think Bucky was in the mood to shove his fingers up his ass right now.

Bucky swallowed, hard.

            “Touch yourself,” he whispered.

Steve’s breath disappeared. He slowly moved his right hand to his cock and gripped himself tightly. Bucky watched, eyelids half hooded over his blue irises. He pushed himself up against the headboard to get a better view.

Steve began to slowly stroke himself. He squeezed the head of his cock every time his hand reached the top, thumb brushing over the slit. He groaned into the silence and shut his eyes. Steve’s head began to hang back. His hair hung over his eyes, which opened to meet Bucky’s.

Bucky moaned when their blue eyes made contact. Steve looked so perfectly vulnerable and seductive, sweat causing his chest to nearly glisten. “C’mon, Steve,” Bucky said as he nudged his foot against Steve’s backside. A bright flush covered Steve’s chest and cheeks in response. Steve hesitantly sucked his fingers before wrapping his left hand around his hip. Bucky watched as Steve’s hand traveled further, his eyes squeezing shut. He imagined how hot Steve felt on the inside, how good it would feel to do that himself, but he didn’t trust himself to touch Steve right now. Not after what he did.

A chocked whine bubbled form Steve’s lips as his body twisted to push his fingers deeper. He worried his bottom lip, turning it a bright pink. Bucky moved his hand to touch himself. For a moment, he thought he could come untouched from watching Steve writhe and shiver and pant.

He pumped his cock roughly in time with Steve’s hand on his own cock. Bucky groaned as Steve’s back arched, head hanging back. Bucky could see Steve’s pulse throbbing in his neck. The muscles in his abdomen coiled and tightened as his hand quickened.

Steve watched Bucky stroke himself for a second, his moans almost in sync with Bucky. He shoved a third finger into himself. The angle was all wrong and he couldn’t reach the spot Bucky had hit, but it was all just hot and heavy in his hands. He attempted to twist and curve his fingers as Bucky had and tightened his grip on his cock. He could see Bucky’s orgasm spiraling out of him, and he knew Bucky was close.

Bucky came in slow, bone-shaking hot spurts. His hips raised off of the sheets as his right hand became sticky with come. He squeezed his eyes shut, temporarily blinded by the white light flashing in his head. His head hit the headboard with a small thump as his eyes lazily fluttered open. He caught Steve’s orgasm at the last second, watching as the blond’s abdomen convulsed and as his come covered Bucky’s thighs.

He could almost hear the noise Steve’s fingers made when they slipped out of his ass.

Steve hunched over. He panted heavily, coming down from a temporary high. Bucky thought it was done, that they weren’t getting to actual sex again, but Steve shifted his position. He placed his legs on either side of Bucky’s hips. His ass hung extremely close to Bucky’s half flaccid cock.

            “Can we, please?” Steve asked, voice nearly begging. Bucky bit his lip and turned the idea over in his mind.

            “I don’t know if I should be… the one to…” He didn’t know where he was going with this. He was damn well sure Steve had never fucked someone up the ass, but he wasn’t sure if he should be trusted.

            “Buck, I trust you.”

            “I know, but I’m fine with, you know… being on the bottom,” Bucky muttered. He could feel his cheeks warming at the thought.

            “Bucky. For God’s sake, I want you in me. Please,” Steve suddenly said. He had a commanding tone in his voice, something that made Bucky’s cock twitch in response to. Bucky half-nodded as Steve gripped his cock in his hand. He stroked several times, hardening his member. Bucky grabbed his wrist.

            “Wait, what about… condoms, lube?” Bucky shyly asked. He mentally kicked himself at how childish he sounded.

            “Yeah.” Steve leaned over Bucky and opened the drawer to his nightstand. He rummaged around before pulling out a small bottle of lube, but no condoms.

            “Shouldn’t we…” Bucky was unsatisfied with Steve’s supplies at first, eyebrows knotting into a concerned look.

            “Buck, I don’t care. If it’s a problem, stop me, but I just _really_ want you inside of me,” Steve clarified. His eyes were intent and vibrant in the darkness. They had a way of making Bucky squirm.

            “Okay,” Bucky confirmed, still a little bit nervous. Steve poured a generous amount of the lube on his hands and slicked them both up without another word. Bucky held onto Steve’s hips as Steve lined himself up with Bucky’s cock.

It was tight, warm. Nothing had ever felt more perfect and right. Steve did it slowly, every so often reopening the lube and moistening himself again. He grunted small sounds as he slid onto Bucky. He wasn’t even half way inside of Steve, but he was already groaning under the feel. Steve’s eyes were shut. He was concentrating. 

Bucky didn’t risk moving. And he was all right with that. It felt so damn good, he could sit still with Steve wrapped around his cock all day long. And then the base of his cock met Steve’s ass and there was no more space to move. They sat still for a moment, just feeling each other. Testing what it felt like and where to go.

Steve lifted himself, only a little bit. He moved slowly and carefully as he tested the waters. Muscles tightened around Bucky, morphing around his cock as Steve began to ride him.

Bucky let him experiment with speed and rhythm. He watched as the muscles in Steve’s body tugged and pulled, moaning when friction suddenly increased. Steve was taking control. He rolled his hips achingly roughly, leaning back. His throat was displayed perfectly. He looked utterly exposed. Bucky squeezed Steve’s hips, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin where his hips met the base of his cock.

Bucky became a little more confident with his hands, unsatisfied with who was the lead. He gripped Steve’s hips tightly; sure he was making marks under his fingertips. Bucky slipped his hands back and grabbed at Steve’s ass. He squeezed his cheeks before stopping the movements Steve was making. He began lifting Steve’s body for him and thrusting his hips upwards. Steve gasped at the sudden change, eyes opening to watch Bucky move. 

Steve timed himself with the rhythm of Bucky’s cock. He groaned as the thrusts became more rough and keened under the feeling. It was perfect like this, hard and deep inside of him. He slowly bent forward, hands grabbing for Bucky’s shoulders. He could barely keep his eyes open, completely overtaken by the pleasure Bucky was giving him.

Steve’s forehead met the crook of Bucky’s neck. His body lurched forward with every thrust of Bucky’s hips. All he could do was whine and let Bucky fuck roughly into him.

Bucky moved his head to find Steve’s lips. He kissed roughly, tongue delving into Steve’s mouth. He could taste himself on Steve’s tongue from before. He sucked on and dragged his teeth along Steve’s bottom lip, receiving a moan from the blond on top of him. Bucky could feel himself getting close again. He could feel those wires tightening inside of him, as the muscles of Steve’s ass seemed to feel firmer with every movement he made.

Steve bit down somewhere near Bucky’s jawline. He muffled his cries against warm skin as he reached his climax, coming before Bucky had a chance to. Something inside of him snapped. His muscles clenched and time seemed to slow as he came all over Bucky’s chest and abs. His orgasm lasted more than a few seconds, his moans morphing into whines as hot spurts of come left his cock.

He collapsed on top of Bucky, body still limp from the incredible orgasm that still swirled inside of his brain. Bucky pushed Steve’s hips down onto his cock and completely enveloped himself inside of Steve. He cried out and left bruises on Steve’s ass. He tipped and fell over an edge with an exceedingly loud moan. His breath stopped as he came inside of Steve slowly. The white flashes from before returned behind his eyes as his lungs struggled to keep up with his heart.

Steve was heavy on top of him and the come between them felt sticky and wet, but he didn’t care. He breathed deeply, attempting to slow his heart. Steve rolled off of him with a grunt. He felt suddenly empty, lacking the feel of Bucky’s cock inside of him. He grunted again as the feeling between his legs became more uncomfortable and sticky.

Bucky, still in a daze, watched him. Steve’s fingers found their way to Bucky’s abdomen. He smeared them into the small pool of come and returned them to his lips afterwards. Steve sucked on his fingers, tasting them both. Bucky groaned at the sight.

            “You gotta stop doing that, or I’m going to be hard for the rest of my life,” Bucky complained as his cock seemed to perk up in interest, only he wasn’t really complaining. Steve chuckled lightly, breath still heavy. He used the sheets to clean them both off and then pulled it off of the bed. He returned with the duvet cover and covered them both half way.

            “I was just curious. You seemed to like it,” Steve replied as he lay close to Bucky. And yes, Bucky did like it. Steve tasted better than any girl he’d ever gone down on. He was slightly jealous of Steve keeping it all to himself. So instead of just staring into Steve’s perfect blue eyes, he placed his hand on Steve’s jaw and pulled him close, kissing him softly. Steve was the one to pull away first.

            “God, Steve. You’re so God damned perfect.” Steve made a noise at his language. “Don’t act like you weren’t cussing just now,” Bucky argued, fingers tracing Steve’s chest.

            “Buck… we need to talk,” Steve murmured, eyes vivid. Bucky sighed and pulled his hands away.

            “I don’t want to,” Bucky replied. They were silent for a moment. Steve watched Bucky’s chest rise and fall with heavy breaths.

            “I love you more than anything,” he whispered. Bucky’s eyes met his.

            “I know,” he whispered back. Steve’s jaw clenched.

            “Can you just please say it to me? Just once?” Bucky looked away. He stared at the ceiling fan as it lazily turned, barely creating any cool air.

            “I don’t like talking about feelings,” Bucky finally replied.

            “You were half an hour ago.”

            “That was different. We were fighting.”

            “Are we still fighting?” 

Bucky didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what they were now.

            “If I know you were telling me the full and honest truth,” Bucky muttered.

            “Stark was never part of my life. He was _never_ someone I was interested in. It was always you, Buck. From the beginning, I’ve been in love with you. I swear on my life, Bucky. I love you,” Steve explained, voice quiet. It couldn’t trust himself not to stumble and choke over his words. He could tell Bucky was thinking something over, maybe sorting out his words. 

            “Okay,” Bucky said. Steve wasn’t sure what he should say about Bucky’s day. He wasn’t sure if he should ask about loyalty. But Bucky got there first. “I’m sorry… about today. I’m sorry that I blew some random guy for pills. I’m sorry I got high and did God knows what at this club I’ve never heard of. I’m sorry you can’t trust me anymore.” Steve’s chest knotted and his heart pounded. He was sure Bucky could hear it.

            “I trust you with my life,” Steve admitted. His hand found Bucky’s under the blanket. “I know it’s been rough. I know I’m not the best at comfort, but I know you’re still a good man.” Bucky nodded slightly. He closed his eyes and listened to Steve’s words. “You screwed up, Buck. We both screwed up. And it’s okay. We’ll get past it because I trust you.”

For some reason, Bucky felt safe holding Steve’s hand and completely naked in the darkness.

            “Okay…” Bucky said again, lacking the words he needed. “Steve?”

            “Yeah, Buck?”

            “I love you,” he whispered.

And even when Bucky was behind the trigger of the guns he shot and the pain he caused, he really always did _love_ Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the end.. thank you for the support :) This was my first multi-chapter fic about them, so I sort of have worked out the kinks I struggled with. I'll be posting more soon (more smut one-shots and some others).
> 
> I'll also be re-reading this again to get a complete and final copy, so chapters will all be edited slightly to better the overall story. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading. I hope you all liked it!


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